Brutal Finesse: Dominance Edition
by Vampcoffee
Summary: This is Brutal Finesse with a few major changes. Edits have been made, chapters have been combined and the ending has been extended.
1. I Am Broken

A battered, skeletal warship stalked in the shadow of an urban planet, silent and invisible. It was the _Iscillus_, drifting in low orbit around Hrasskis and positioning for its next attack. All throughout the dark, ghostly vessel, droid soldiers and automated vehicles whirred quietly in standby mode. They rested in their collapsed forms along the walls and organized in perfect ranks in the hangars, behind sliding doors, and stacked on top of each other like the disposable weapons they were. The only two living beings on the ship were aboard the bridge: Darth Tyraal and his Chiss slave, Viscera. The Lord stood atop a platform with arms by his sides, deep sleeves and flowing robes melding in the dark to become a draping column of black. Graying hair fell to the nape of his neck, and he stared out of the segmented viewport. The blackness outside would have been indistinguishable from the ship's walls if not for the dots of white and the large sphere of slate grey that hung in empty space.

''Tell me, Viscera…" Darth Tyraal spoke plainly into the gloom, ''…what do you hate?''

"The Republic, the Jedi and you,'' Viscera responded while kneeling to the master, who didn't bother to look at her when speaking. Her reddish eyes scanned the metallic floor beneath her, strands of deep brown hair running down to her back, around her face and into her vision. Her blue-grey skin, decorated with inky patterns, was even darker in the void of the bridge, the only light blinking scarcely on the far walls from droids on standby and automated consoles. She dressed in the light armor of a bounty hunter mixed with the scarcity of a dancer's wear.

"Why do you hate me, Viscera?'' His voice was rumbling and dead.

''You own me.'' Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, but sharp as the blade sheathed horizontally at the small of her back. Her status as property was a fact, which she both hated and accepted.

''Why do I own you?'' The Sith Lord was a statue of despair, standing still as a stone and uttering the query as if he had done so before.

''I am broken." A hint of admittance accompanied the statement and the bite from earlier was gone. Viscera's expression twisted slightly into a scowl. No matter how many times she said it, part of her screamed in protest. Her hands became fists and the Force warmed around her. Her master either didn't notice or, more likely, didn't care.

''Indeed,'' He continued in a dull drone that seemed to mimic the ambient noise of the ship. ''You have passion, you have strength, but you are not free,'' the Sith Lord explained to his apprentice for what was surely not the first time.

"I am incomplete,'' Viscera conceded, causing the vengeance inside of her to shriek another objection. _But not for long._ Her power grew every day and besides Darth Tyraal, there was no one in the galaxy she feared. Soon even he would fall to her blade- a day she dreamed of often.

''No.'' The Dark Lord rejected her dryly and idled atop his platform. ''You are whole for my purposes.'' The purposes included murder, destruction, and something to take his anger out on. ''However, you will never take the title of 'lord', or 'lady' in your case.''

"I _will_ kill you, master." The edge returned to her speech. Her proclamation was fierce and daring, which her master did not care for.

''Do not speak what you cannot fulfill," the Sith Lord snapped and shot a glance over his shoulder.

''The Force is all you have.'' Viscera took comfort in that, her statement a whispered glaive of certainty. ''It will not protect you forever.''

''Is that so?'' Tyraal asked without question while turning to face Viscera fully. He was a pillar of dark, save for the pale skin of his face and the mysterious blue-violet of his eyes, brilliant yet distant, a pair of spherical nebulae. His glare was slight, and his robes hung still when he issued the challenge. ''You may test that assertion, if you like.'' He was motionless yet fluid, unarmed yet wickedly powerful.

Viscera's brow tightened, and she flashed a glare up at the robed figure standing on the platform above her. Her hand flew back to the sheath at her waist; her sword was in her grip in a second and she pulled it from her belt quickly. White sparks flashed and the weapon extended, three feet of blade drawing from one foot of sheath. She leaped powerfully and deftly transferred from a kneeling position to a lunge.

Tyraal's hand twitched. Viscera froze in the air. She hung there, her silvery sword glinting only inches away from the Sith Lord. Her clothes were stiff, her hair was still, and even her breath had been caught in the Force. The next moments were lingering, silent and still. Viscera thought her master might hold her there until she suffocated, a pathetic and undignified death, until she saw the orbs of his eyes shift downward. Her body followed his gaze and she crashed into the floor hard.

The edge of the stairs dug into her face, ribs and knees, cracking bones and spilling blood. Quickly after, Tyraal raised Viscera back to his eye level. Blood leaked from her mouth and she hung weakly in the Force of his sight, still scowling, still clutching her arcsaber. That is, until his swirling blue eyes flickered once and flung her fast and far away from him and the platform. Viscera tumbled end over end onto the catwalk where she lost her sword and collapsed. Her breath quickened and her chest heaved as she immediately tried to get up. On her periphery she saw tiny arcs of electric blue between her master's fingers. The sight made her shut her eyes tight and turn away instantly.

''No more!" she cried for mercy. "I yield.'' The Chiss woman trembled and her breath shook, defiance overtaken by fear. Her cringing lasted until she no longer heard the energetic crackle, forced to wonder whether or not she would be spared. Viscera gathered herself into a kneeling position, angry with how much control Tyraal had over her, to see him turned around and facing the starry black once more.

"I would rather not damage you right before sending you on an assignment.'' The caring in his voice was strangled by its plainness.

"I understand, master. What would you have of me?'' Viscera asked of her owner.

''Descend on Hrasskis at these coordinates.'' A console flickered to the right of her at that time and she turned to read the details. ''There is a shipbuilding outpost there. Commandeer their metal working frigates,'' Tyraal instructed.

''It will be done,'' she breathed. She was eager, but not without patience, thanks to her master, who was always on his own time.

''Leave at once.'' The Lord was done with her for now.

She stood, silhouetted in the bridge's dim light while picking up her arcsaber and returning it to her compact sheath. It gave a piercing whir as matter displacement allowed the too-long blade to fit inside. After a metallic _shink_ the only sounds came from the dull ambiance of the ship and the fading click of Viscera's boots as she departed for the hangar. She boarded her personal vehicle, a black, angular fighter class vehicle with a powerful weapons system and limited hyperdrive. Viscera powered up the vehicle and exited the _Iscillus._

Her small fighter pierced through the atmosphere of Hrasskis, fiery orange enveloping it for a brief moment before it cleared down into the sky. Trails of clouds chased the jet-like vehicle as it raced toward the surface. Viscera could see a complex of grey and black shapes from her position above the outpost. The single-occupant ship steered toward the construction yard at the center of the tall buildings and sturdy gates. There were towers and cranes throughout, a sprawling compound of industrial resources. She went unnoticed by the shipbuilders, her fighter merely a dark shot from space, until it let loose a spray of red blasterfire.

Viscera's fighter screeched low and fired a rain of energy - powerful bolts which struck in a volley and sent fire exploding in chaotic patterns. Blasts and screams flooded the air, as vehicles were destroyed and workers were killed mercilessly. The sharp aircraft circled then lowered among the wreckage and bodies. Smoke and flames obscured the ship as it landed in the yard, offices and hangars surrounding the central expanse. Viscera wasted no time powering down her craft. She opened the hatch to climb out onto the wing, then dropped to the ground.

She did, however, glance upward to see the buildings around her, squinting against a setting sun and getting a feel for her surroundings. The sky was pinkish orange and the area smelled like a refueling station, metallic and sterile. The cockpit slid closed and smoky white fired from beneath the vessel as she walked away, over smoldering, blackened pavement toward a wounded serviceman. He was burned, bloody and crawling backward, his legs ruined by the ship's blasters. Viscera strode steadily and stepped on his chest, looking down with a wry smirk on her face.

''The resource fleet,'' she demanded, orange-red eyes glaring and shadowy brunette hair fluttering in low wind.

''The eastern hangar, where that hauling shuttle is headed.'' The shudder of his fear quivered the Sith apprentice's foot. A quick glance confirmed the information that was given and also alerted her of the outpost guards. Viscera drew her long arcsaber from the short, matter displacing sheath in a reverse grip before taking it in both hands and stabbing downward into the pinned worker's stomach. Voltage and vibration buzzed along the length of the blade and seared blood sprayed from the wound. Blood gurgled his screaming and red drenched his torso as the vibroblade sawed through his ribs and electricity charred his heart and lungs.

A faded gasp cued his death just as the guards came into range and fired. Green flashed toward her and she hurriedly withdrew her weapon from the body to defend herself. She ducked and leaned to avoid bolts which streaked past her from numerous directions. Her arcsaber intercepted much of the incoming fire as she spun deftly and stepped toward the nearest sentry who continued to fire while backing away. Viscera struck fiercely and sliced across his waist, the whirring sword delivering a jagged cut as if it were serrated.

She resembled some of the ancient Sith, wielding a physical blade instead of a lightsaber. The concentrated light cut too cleanly for her tastes. There was no shredding, cutting or, most importantly, blood. A blade of energy had no weight and removed the feelings of splitting flesh and contact with the enemy. The blood on the weapon was burned dry in spots as Viscera whipped it around to block blaster bolts. Wails drifted in the midday air for each slice that severed and split the guard force to bloody pieces. Her heart soared.

A blaster pistol dropped from the limp hand of the last uniformed watchman, whose brain spilled from a wound cut into the side of his head. Viscera returned the too-long sword to its sheath and watched the standing corpse finally crumple. Then, she headed for the hangar the worker had pointed out before his death. She walked with purpose but not urgency, as all the shipbuilders had either died or run off during the attack. The Chiss slave wiped her hand on the upper swell of her chest where blood had sprayed onto her. Her blueish skin brightened in the lowering sun as she walked to her objective, her thoughts drifting.

There were four frigates inside, which were under the cover of the large hangar. The bay door was wide open and allowed Viscera to enter freely. They were freighter ships, like the one Tyraal had owned during his apprenticeship, the one she was pushed into after she was bought many years ago. Bought. It didn't sting like it used to, but the bitterness in her was unceasing. Viscera continued on her assignment and boarded the first of the frigates, traveling through to the control room to access the navigation system. She activated the autopilot and typed in the location of the _Iscillus _still hovering out in space.

Once she disembarked, the thrusters fired soon after and the ship lifted on its own, gliding out of the hangar, and tilting upward for the sky. This process was repeated for the second and third frigates, which were programmed to rise out of the hangar and dock within her master's ship, essentially stealing themselves. A smirk played on her lips as she watched them then she turned around to claim the last frigate.

A ray struck an inch from her head. She smelled the acridness of her own burnt hair and skin, singed by the shot's residual energy. Her eyes cut around the hangar and she spun only to find a smoldering hole in the ceiling. From behind her a grenade was thrown. It rolled toward Viscera and she dove nimbly but was unable to fully clear the blast radius. She was thrown in a spray of bluish fire and duracrete fragments torn up from the floor. In that same moment a barrage of blaster bolts fired on her downed form. She rolled to avoid them, still taking one to her leg before forcing herself to stand.

In front of her she saw three massive clone troopers, heavily armed and armored. Republic Commandos. She had two seconds to scan them, one had a rocket launcher, one had a sniper rifle, one had the meanest blaster rifle she had ever seen, before the sound of a shotgun clicked behind her. Viscera leaped high into the air as the scatter bolts streaked below her, flipping and drawing her arcsaber simultaneously.

She landed behind the shotgun wielder and slashed at the back of his head. The vibroblade shook, a gash dug into his helmet, and his head jerked from the blow but he survived, saved by his armor and able to turn the scatter gun on her again. She cut downward at the weapon and the spread shot pelted the ground. Viscera put her weight into a thrust at the clone's chest. Her arcsaber pierced the armor only a few inches, enough to draw blood and shock the trooper which caused him to seize for a second and fall over. In any other case she would have gone for the kill, but the rest of the squad would have vaporized her in an instant. Instead she ran, another shower of bolts streaming toward her, another shot landing in an explosion of sparks. She screamed and her shoulder blade shrieked, but she had to keep running.

Viscera escaped hastily and avoided the bodies and rubble that lay around her ship. She climbed onto the wing of her fighter and bit through the pain in her legs, until lowering into the cockpit and blasting off. Acceleration pressed the seat to her back and the console lit up, as she veered upwards into the air. Clouds parted around the prongs of her ship, and she activated the primary boost to jet out of the atmosphere and into space. Sky faded into a black void, where the _Iscillus_ hung among the stars.


	2. Claim the Force

After a second of delay, the doors to the bridge slid open, accompanied by a mechanized whine that rose in pitch. Viscera walked with a slight limp, in through the entry and onto the catwalk, which was flanked on either side by sleeping consoles. They blinked with tiny squares of pale blue light, the only illumination within the entire bridge, save for the soft glow of the large viewport, in front of which stood the dark, motionless shape of Darth Tyraal. She continued toward the elevation upon which he stood, and exactly when she reached her usual spot on the floor Darth Tyraal spoke. Despite her injuries, she hurried to kneel.

''You're missing one,'' the Sith Lord spoke. His scorn echoed in the dark.

''I had to leave it, master.'' Viscera's voice rasped from the sting of her wounds. ''Commandos, they surprised me."

''They did more than that.'' Her master knew she had been wounded during the mission without even looking. The knowledge and power that Darth Tyraal wielded was an absolute mystery. ''Join me, apprentice.'' He called to her and she hesitated, looking up to see his back before standing to do as he said.

She stumbled on the stairs, wounds from the mission affecting her movement. Her reflection faded in once she reached the raised area and took a place beside her master. Darth Tyraal turned slowly, the swirls of his robe making him appear to glide instead of step. The slave looked at her master, her reddish eyes becoming lost in his blue depths. Viscera felt her consciousness slipping out of her and into the shimmering vortex of his eyes.

''Hold my gaze.'' Tyraal voiced audible darkness. She already was unable to do anything else. It was not love. It was the Force. Suddenly, his eyes flickered and Viscera felt her injuries tingle lightly. The light burns on her face and body prickled then cleared. Then the sensation grew and her blaster wounds began to itch and burn. Her brow tightened and her flesh began to return, burns clearing away and dirt disappearing from her skin.

"Aahh!'' Viscera cried out with tears in her eyes, the stinging in her body making it hard to keep eye contact with her master. Darth Tyraal stared into his slave and she squirmed under his gaze while the Force purged the harm from her body. Just when she felt overwhelmed, the ethereal burn stopped all at once. Viscera clutched her chest, hunching over and gasping while the Sith Lord's eyes lingered on her. There was a long silence where Darth Tyraal allowed Viscera to catch her breath.

''Describe them,'' Tyraal ordered.

''Clone troopers, four of them with the strongest weapons and armor I've ever seen on an individual."

''They are stronger than you?'' The question came with a hint of expectation in his voice.

''Together, yes.'' She couldn't admit to weakness without a qualifier.

''Then you will strive to be their end.'' The tone he took made Viscera curious.

''Yes, master.'' It was odd to her master while both standing and facing him. It was rare enough to warrant a mental double-take; however her thoughts were interrupted by her master's voice.

''Now…'' His eyes sharpened and the Force rushed into the space between them, casting Viscera backward into the air, ''…defend yourself.'' Darth Tyraal issued the command to his apprentice just as she landed on the catwalk. Two Automated Combatant Units activated on either side of her while she got to her feet and drew her arcsaber. They fired on her, four in total, and she twisted to avoid red bolts. She spun and flipped, the bridge flashing erratic with laserlight and shots pelting randomly along the wall. Viscera angled the vibroblade and blocked incoming fire to the best of her ability. Yet even with her skill, energy grazed her occasionally. The multi-directional onslaught was relentless, and Viscera could only dodge and block while waiting for further instruction from her master.

The ACUs did not tire, aiming, reloading and tracking her endlessly, while Viscera eventually did. After about an hour, her reactions slowed and fatigue crept in. Shots grazed her more often or even hit her squarely, causing Viscera to cry in pain. Her face screwed with frustration. There were angles she couldn't see and bolts she couldn't dodge. She was a melee fighter and she was good at it, but sessions like these made her limits painfully apparent. Finally, her master uttered the word she was waiting for.

''Attack."

With her master's permission, she launched into the nearest droid and stabbed into it angrily, gears stripping and valves failing. Sparks burst from the hole in the ACU as it crumbled to the floor. A second droid was severed from shoulder to hip and Viscera spun to take the head of a third. Machinery clattered around her as she dipped low to cleave the waist of the remaining robotic opponent. Wiring spilled from the separation and crackling electricity buzzed from the split ends. Viscera grimaced and gingerly touched the blaster wound in her shoulder with her free hand, one of a dozen grazes and hits.

''Your physicality is exceptional, but it is not your only weapon.'' Darth Tyraal had already turned to face the window.

''Master?'' the Chiss woman asked while she walked a few steps from the droids, sheathed her arcsaber, and took a silent guess at what he was getting at.

''Range, Viscera. Foresight and perception; these will supplement your blade. '' He confirmed her guess by expressing the abilities she was lacking.

''I have called on the Force, Master; it does not respond.'' Her eyes lowered and she leered at the polished floor.

"You allow it to elude you,'' the Sith Lord spoke, knowing exactly what the problem was. ''Do not 'call' on the Force; do not wait on its power. '' Tyraal stripped the Force of its mysticism, his teachings emphasizing raw will and control. ''Demand that it obey you.''

''How?'' She looked at her master, hoping to gather the answer by scanning him from across the bridge.

''Your will. It flares when you tense, when you anger, when you submit to me.'' A tone of knowing rose and died down within the same second. Darth Tyraal could see Viscera's potential more than she could. ''You seize the Force often. Now, you must focus it.''

''I can't.'' Viscera shifted her weight and she had to look away from her master once again.

''You do not struggle to draw your weapon. You take it in your hand, you wield it surely.'' The Sith Lord employed an angle familiar to his apprentice.

''But it is physical, Master.'' She tried to understand and the working of her mind sapped the volume from her voice. Viscera was unsure and unconvinced.

''The Force is all around you.'' Tyraal was calm and steady. ''Grasp it; wield it. There is no difference.''

Viscera exhaled, letting the pain of training and the mental ache of the lecture pour out of her. There was a reason she had given up on the Force. She searched the floor and confusion melted her thoughts. He made it sound so simple, likened it to the arcsaber held fast on her belt, which she could see and feel.

''Retire to your chamber, Viscera.'' She thought she heard a sigh come from her master. ''Claim the Force,'' Tyraal instructed, concluding the session and dismissing his apprentice.

Viscera turned around slowly and winced from the new wounds of her training with the droids. The sharp odor of lingering smoke stung her senses and she readily stepped over the scattered alloy limbs on her way out. There was a hint of staggering as she walked down the bridge and through sliding slate doors which glided open when she approached, and closed again once she was gone.

Viscera slowly walked down a corridor before stopping to stand in front of the door to her chamber, made idle by the thoughts churning in her head. It wasn't just her latest lesson that had her contemplating; it was every lesson before that. The painful training stung in splotches of scorched skin and seared flesh and made even standing an uncomfortable ordeal. Strips of faint white light beamed overhead, from one end of the wide, metallic corridor to the other. Her breathing had leveled some since leaving the bridge but it still shook periodically.

"Claim the Force."

Tyraal's echo caused Viscera to shiver. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh that only she would hear. She was alone on the drifting shard of jagged durasteel called the _Iscillus_, with only droid armies and her master for company. A touch of the control panel caused the door to slide open and whine, the mechanized sound drawing her out of her trance. Her steps were delicate, taking care not to upset her wounds while entering her room. The lodging was dull grey like the rest of the ship but had a familiar smell. There was a bed, desk, and closet within the ten foot square space. Viscera took off her belt first, which held her arcsaber, the remote for her fighter and a few other items, and placed it on the desk.

The door closed on its own while Viscera withdrew a clear canister with blue gel inside and a roll of mediwrap. She sat down in a swiveling chair and put the roll and canister on the desk also before taking off her boots. She opened the gel and took some in her hand before spreading it on the places she'd been shot by the ACUs. Once the wound began to tingle, her wrapped it and repeated the process for the major injuries, removing her clothing, applying bacta, then covering the area so it could heal. Viscera had done this countless times before and had figured out her master's logic. The damage she suffered while on a task of his would be cured by him through the Force while the damage she suffered during training was her own responsibility.

"How else will you learn?"

Viscera finished wrapping around her chest and wished she could ignore the whisper of the past. She got up and pulled her arcsaber from its sheath. Alas, the murmurs couldn't be ignored; they came more and more often, especially over the last year or so. The weapon turned in both her hands, leads from the electric energy cell glinting from inside the blade's hilt. She thought about the lectures Darth Tyraal had given.

"Is she _really_ worth that much?''

Tyraal's voice crept into her mind once again and Viscera gritted her teeth. She would never, ever forget that question. She clicked the trigger-like button below the handguard and the arcsaber buzzed with lethality before clicking off. Tyraal's question had been uttered years ago when she first met him, the man who would be her owner and master. She remembered the words but had forgotten the details of the past. When frustration found her, so did the warming rush of power. This was the Force. This was the sort of moment Tyraal had talked about. She sat on the edge of her bed, long hair falling around her face, blue skin glowing in the dark and eyes staring blankly at nothing. She was not looking at anything; instead she focused on the memory and let her sword hang in her hand absently.

"How about half that?"

Viscera willed the scene to continue and, to some surprise, it did. The last she saw was Tyraal making a gesture with his hand before the vision slipped away. Her senses returned to the present and she blinked to become aware of pale light and silence around her. There was a slight ache in her head, despite which, she immediately wanted to continue into that vision. She remembered standing with her hands bound atop a stage in front of a mostly human crowd. She remembered the line of other girls, Twi'leks and Zeltrons and Togrutas. Still, there was something there, something important that she had forgotten. Viscera touched the back of her head which throbbed dully. Eventually, the Force would help her relive that moment, as much as she hated it. No. She wouldn't wait on the Force. She would demand to have the memory restored.

Viscera gasped silently. Tyraal had been saying that all along. Finally, now it made some sense. She looked down at the sword in her hands, staring at it and thinking of it and the Force and how they related.

''Grasp it, wield it.'' The Chiss apprentice mouthed her master's words to herself while gripping the hilt of the steely weapon, touching its blade, turning it over in her bluish hands.

''There is no difference.'' Viscera's voice was silent and her hands were now turned upwards, the arcsaber resting across her palms. She took a steadying breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly. She did her best to aim her will at the Force, to seize the power she desired. The arcsaber shifted while Viscera thought of all the attempts she had made in the past. She focused on everything she had learned. Her weapon lifted slowly from her hands. Viscera watched her sword floating inches above her palms. She had claimed Force.

Victory flooded her and the surge took her whole body. The sword fell back into her hands and she held it while she thought. It didn't cause aches as severe as the visions did but she did feel mentally taxed. Her breathing was steady and a smile touched her lips. She set her weapon on the desk then and stood up before taking a couple steps to her mirror.

She looked at herself while running some water and washing her face. Water trickled down her cheeks and between her fingers and she searched herself with garnet eyes. The woman in the reflection was a slave, apprentice, and fighter. She was Viscera. However, 'Viscera' had only existed for two decades. Who had she been before then? Who was her family? These were mysteries she would unravel through mastering the Force.

Just these amateur ventures into the Force gave her a feeling of success and led her to form a plan. Viscera combed her hair, stroking the deep brown locks while thinking about the future. There were now no barriers to keep her from her potential. She smiled and lay back on the bed. Her eyes searched the ceiling as she rested on her back, feeling her injuries tingle beneath the wrapping. Once she was settled, she slept and dreamed.


	3. I Will Sever Your Limbs

Viscera woke smoothly. She stretched some and then sat up, flexing her toned arms and torso but stopping short. Something was different. She stood up and removed her bandages, examining her blue skin which was tinted slightly purple where the blaster wounds had been. She dressed quickly afterward, returned her arcsaber to the belt, and strapped it around her waist. One look around confirmed she was ready. She pulled her hair into a ponytail on her way out then turned to head to the bridge.

Viscera noticed things she hadn't before as she walked through the ship's halls. The Force was all around her, making things more detailed and vibrant. The difference in her senses was small but noticeable and she wondered briefly how severe the changes would be if she ever achieved the mastery her owner had. She walked through automated doors which slid open to greet her approach. Darth Tyraal stood on the elevation at the end of the bridge's catwalk as he always did. Viscera watched the dark shape and walked forward to kneel.

"Tell me, Viscera…'' Darth Tyraal spoke low and cold. ''… what do you crave?''

''Power, dominance, and freedom.''

"How will you fulfill your desires?'' The query was an icy drone like the wind of Hoth.

"I will control the Force.'' Viscera was surer this time. She would practice with the Force and soon it would be her tool.

"Indeed.'' If her master was pleased, it did not, and never had, shown in his tone. ''Continue to develop your power on this next task.'' A hologram screen appeared before him and showed the surface of a planet.

''Yes, Master.'' Her blue skin shone in the hologram's light and she looked up to read the details.

''You will travel to the smuggler's camp here, on Ord Mantell.'' The display zoomed and an indicator blinked around the area her master specified. ''You will find a shipment of crystals there. You will bring them to me.''

"As you wish." The screen dissolved into rays of light which faded afterward. Viscera returned her eyes to the floor.

"Begone.''

Viscera stood and turned around. _First metal and now crystals? _Her thoughts worked and she exited the bridge, leaving her master behind to stare out of the windows as if he overlooked a city. The doors closed behind her and she continued down a hallway. _Is he building something?_

Viscera reached for the control panel that operated the lift in front of her. She hesitated to touch the control and a smirk tugged at her lips. A tilt of her hand caused the Force to tremor and the door to the lift slid open. She boarded and selected the level of the ship that the hangar was on. Her pace quickened and she turned a corner then strode into wide, open hangar where the light was brighter and the floor was both glossy and scraped where ships had a less than perfect landing or take off.

The three large and blocky frigates from Hrasskis rested in the center of the hangar with a busy crowd of worker droids that unloaded the cargo. She glanced briefly to see all sorts of machinery and materials being carried off before turning back to her own ship, a stark black fighter which stood off to the side on delicate landing gear. Viscera jogged over to it and jumped onto its left wing before lowering into the cockpit.

From inside she heard a muffled whoosh from the jets and she spun the vehicle around to face the mouth of the hangar and then fly forward, out of the _Iscillus_, into space, and toward Ord Mantell. The atmosphere burned around her and her fighter shook while it descended. The surface of this planet was dull brown and, as she drew closer, she could see various tan, green and greyish structures. As practice she extended her new senses out to the ground below. The Force obeyed her but she only gathered a faint ripple which seemed to be a warning of some kind. As the air roared outside of her angular vehicle, she thought shortly on what the sense meant, if anything.

A bolt struck her cockpit. Viscera flinched at the burst of sparks then steered to avoid another shot streaking toward her, now convinced that she had experienced a minor glimpse of the future. She stored that note for later, as she had just entered combat. The surface of Ord Mantell became a whirlpool of matte color as she spun and dove simultaneously before straightening out for a hasty landing. Livid, Viscera didn't bother with the landing struts, instead opting to open the hatch and let her ship crash to the earth, her fighter sliding along the sandy ground toward the smuggler's camp.

She stood while the craft bumped and jolted over rocky terrain, then leaped out of the cockpit. The fighter slowed to a stop and clouds of dirt plumed behind Viscera as she drew her sword and ran toward her enemy. Short, makeshift buildings stood on either side of her with tarps over the roofs and crates strewn about. The apprentice's focus, however, was the Weequay thug before her with a raised longrifle, from which a wisp of heat rose. She cleaved the skinny muzzle in two then spun to throw out her off-hand.

"Hey!" a filtered voice called out.

The Force sprung from her open hand and sent the dark-skinned smuggler sprawling about the ground. Viscera ignored the voice in the distance and angled to stab the downed form.

"That's enough." That same garbled, droid-like voice was accompanied by two shrill winding noises. Viscera stopped short, her blade buzzing and crackling with energy just inches from the shooter's neck, and looked up to see an assortment of unsavory characters scattered about the camp. Of the gang, a masked man, who she assumed to be the speaker, walked forward and aimed at her with a pair of blasters. She glared at him as if her sight would dissolve his face covering.

''Who are you?" Viscera eyed the armored individual. She noted the jade skin of his hands. Mirialan.

''You first, babe.'' The mercenary turned the question on her, faceless and armed extensively.

''I am a servant of my master. That is all you will know.'' Her brow tightened and she nearly snarled in place of speaking.

''Give me a reason not to put two holes in your head.'' His hands closed around his pistols and his trigger fingers twitched.

Viscera's face tore with anger. To Darth Tyraal, she would plea for her life. To this random spacer, she would do no such thing. She flipped the blade in her hand and ducked. The masked gunslinger fired. Viscera felt heat pass over her head while she struck with the arcsaber. The stranger blocked with the bracer on his forearm and a bolt flew from his other weapon. Viscera twisted to dodge, laser burns grazing her shoulder as she swung her fist furiously. A crack sounded from the man's chin and strength evacuated his legs. Viscera stepped forward as her foe stumbled. His blaster fired. Her saber swung.

The Chiss slave cried and placed a hand on the burning wound in her side. Red splattered the ground around the stranger who now held his shoulder, which was gashed deeply and gushing blood. Viscera staggered backward and felt a numbing ripple spread from her blaster wound. It slithered throughout her and suddenly all the feeling poured away from her body. She swore before dropping her weapon and falling completely limp, stunned. Her eyes stared blankly at the sky as she lay on the ground. She tried to grasp the Force and failed. Darkness flooded her.

* * *

Viscera woke on a gritty floor. She looked around to see metallic crates and lockers were stacked up around her. A group of alien thugs sat on said cargo and had a conversation in Huttese. The Chiss apprentice's vision gradually focused and the stun effect finally faded._ Where's my sword? _Gone. Once her awareness returned, she lurched forward only to be stopped by restraints around her wrists which jolted at the motion. Chains clattered loudly and the bunch of Mid Rim pirates turned their attention to her.

"She's awake," one of the scoundrels announced.

"Release me!" Viscera bore her teeth and screamed at her captors. They were unfazed. One shifted, one smirked, and one stepped outside of the cramped room.

"I will carve you to pieces.'' She delivered an icy threat while she struggled on the floor and glared up at the scum around her. Later, the masked gunslinger from earlier ducked under the tarp and into the room. He stood in the middle of the storage area and folded his arms, blood oozing from the bandages around his shoulder.

"Squillo wanted to kill you,'' the Mirialan spacer began. ''The rest of us just wanna have some fun.''

Viscera frowned. ''You are all dead men.''

"I'm sure your master wouldn't mind." The faceless stranger sounded carefree but seemed to be serious. "How much are you worth?"

"My master has no use for credits,'' Viscera informed.

The masked man shook his head then kneeled down in front of Viscera. ''Everyone has a price, babe," he whispered from roughly a foot away, so close Viscera could see bits of machinery embedded within the silvery durasteel that covered her captor's face.

"I will cut your heart out." Another ruthless claim Viscera yearned to act on.

"You talk so sexy." The masked hunter continued to tease her with his robotic voice.

A blast shook the ground outside. The scummy spacers stood and ran out of the cargo room to investigate. The masked man in front of Viscera looked over his shoulder through the small door. Blasters screeched and the dull drone of a vehicle could be heard.

"Jarrik!" a voice cried and the mercenary kneeling close to her quickly stood and rushed out of the room. Viscera heard shouts and explosions outside and quickly used this moment alone to try pulling on her cuffs again. The chain drew taught and the heavy locker to which she was bound slid an inch across the grungy floor. A body fell outside of the doorway while she twisted to tried and undo the shackles. The firefight seemed to escalate, rising into a storm of screaming and blasterfire. The stranger returned. Viscera glared with frustration and curiosity while he quickly slipped in and kneeled down beside her again. She noticed he had a key in one hand and her arcsaber in the other.

"We need some help," he spoke in a rush, and a second later Viscera felt the shackles separate. Jarrik ran right back out of the room while Viscera sprung to her feet and picked up her sword. She clicked the trigger on her way out and her weapon came to life with voltage and vibration. Viscera glanced around to see the already disheveled camp now littered with bodies and patches of fire. She saw Jarrik with his pistols out and spun to see what he was aiming at: a Republic dropship.

The sniper and rifleman commandos ducked behind the transport for cover while the grenadier fired his launcher at Viscera. She dove to avoid the blast and then charged the grenadier; Jarrik's bolts streaking past her and suppressing the rest of the squad. She pushed the launcher away then swung at the commando. Her blade met his neck and pressed the soldier against his squad's ship. She pulled her sword through and an arc of red sprayed onto the Republic vessel. Jarrik threw a detonator. A fiery explosion rocked everything around Viscera.

She fell and through a haze of falling debris she saw another heavily armored trooper reaching for his shotgun. Just when the commando recovered his weapon, Viscera reached with the Force to rip it away. The air burned. She jumped and lashed out, her arcsaber cutting across the clone's chest. The sky flashed. He fell over and Viscera descended on him, stabbing once, twice, and a third time. Thrusters fired beside her and the dropship rose. White plastoid fragments shot from the shotgun commando's armor as Viscera pressed her vibrating sword deeper into her enemy. Blood sprayed from the impaled soldier and the Sith apprentice hardly noticed that two of the commandos were retreating. Viscera looked up to see the gunship tilting for the sky then she pulled her sword out of the body. The mercenary lowered his blasters and walked over to her.

"Who are you?" Jarrik's forceful question cracked with static.

"I'm looking for a shipment of crystals," Viscera countered with her own demand, her heart and mind racing.

"You're a Sith, aren't you?" Jarrik asked after scanning the tattooed Chiss woman before him.

"Give me the crystals or die," the Sith apprentice screamed, adrenaline making her actions extreme.

"Did you not see the commandos?" The bounty hunter's shout was garbled by the speakers in his mask. "The Republic is trying to kill you! A destroyer jumped here just after you showed up."

_Destroyer?_ Viscera went silent and the rage died down as she grasped the Force to find out what he was talking about. A vision struck her. Two warships strafed each other in space, one grey and black, one nearly white with burgundy stripes on the hull. Between them, fighters fought and bolts streaked across the blackness. The light intensified until the scene was obscured by white, at which point Viscera had to blink away the brightness. She returned to the present, sheathed her arcsaber, and turned to leave. Jarrik grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going?" Jarrik asked with interference altering his voice.

"My master-" Viscera began with concern in her voice, in her eyes.

"If your master is who I think he is, he can take care of himself," the spacer assured her.

"I will not wait here while my master battles the Republic." The apprentice snatched her arm away, ferocity in her voice.

He shrugged. "If you want the crystals."

She blinked and then scowled. "I will sever your limbs."

"You'll never find them without me." The mercenary swaggered, obviously not moved by Viscera's threat.

There was a prolonged period of silence between them. _Of course he would say that._ They stood close among the bodies and flames, within a foot of each other. A few surviving thugs scurried about the camp, busy with the aftermath of being attacked by the Republic. _Just kill him and find them yourself. _Viscera's ruby eyes searched the sinister mask of her rival urgently, her mind churning for solutions to her current situation.

Eventually Jarrik holstered his pistols and walked away. _What if it's true? _Viscera stood there and watched the bounty hunter leave for his transport, identified by decals as '_Mauve-4'_. Smoke blurred his form as he ascended the boarding ramp. Viscera huffed and ran after Jarrik, stepping onto his mid-size ship just as the ramp began to rise. She stepped on and quickly walked to the mercenary who was busy removing his gear. Faint light raked across the ship's spacious interior from a single source in the corner.

"Made a decision?" Jarrik asked, apparently unafraid of the possibility of Viscera deciding to kill him. He unclipped his belt and placed it on the desk in front of him, which was covered in ammo, grenades, and gadgets. He undid his bracers next and Viscera watched with arms crossed. Once removed, Viscera saw the green skin of his hands continued up to his thick forearms.

"You wish to lay with me?" Viscera whispered a statement more than a question.

"Nothing gets past you, doll," Two shrill whines sounded from Jarrik's blasters as he placed them on the table.

Viscera walked through the _Mauve-4_'s shadowed interior towards Jarrik. "I usually kill people to get what I want," she said while she reached up and grabbed the mercenary's mask. She whispered, "Consider yourself extremely fortunate."

Jarrik turned to face Viscera, forced by her hand. She tore the durasteel mask away to reveal Jarrik's striking face. A sense of freedom warmed inside Viscera as she scanned the Mirialan bounty hunter, a grievous scar cutting down his cheek. His eyes met hers, gold and garnet clashing fiercely while they stared into each other. Jarrik grabbed Viscera by her slender waist while Viscera pulled Jarrik's head into a kiss, driven by raw passion. Tyraal was fighting the Republic but in this moment she did not care. Her rage melted and all she felt was carnal hunger and the bristle of the mercenary's cropped hair beneath her fingers. Her lips parted and her tongue entered Jarrik's mouth while his hands pawed over her greedily.

They fought and groped until Viscera felt herself being pulled away. Saliva dripped from her tongue and she had a second to gasp before Jarrik picked her up dropped her onto his desk full of gear. Jarrik's weapons scattered away from Viscera's hand, which she flung to steady herself while being roughly caressed by her new rival. Her breath quickened as they kissed wetly and she tore from his firm lips to pant weakly and warmly on his neck. Their cheeks touched and only inches separated her body from his. She felt a hand on her chest. She felt a hand on her thigh. Viscera moaned.


	4. I Wish to Be Alone

Viscera woke up in a bed and touched the soreness between her legs. Her ponytail had come undone in the night, brunette hair spreading messily about her head and sticking to the chilled sweat on her neck and chest. There was a black sheet over her which she pulled closer to her chest while sitting up. She could see Jarrik's muscled back as he lay face down next to her. The transport ship drummed idly around her while she kept one hand around her torso and struck Jarrik in the back of the head with the other. He groaned looked up at Viscera with a brow raised.

"The crystals," she demanded forcefully despite having just woken up.

Only a grunt came from Jarrik in response. He pointed through the dim light to a card among other items sitting atop a round container. Viscera pulled the sheet with her as she stood and picked up the key. A thin veil of black draped around her as she examined the slim, metallic rectangle. Just when she was going to ask where the shipment was, Jarrik grumbled something about the cargo room. Viscera stepped backward then skipped from the room, heading first to the central area where a pile of armor and weapons was stacked around the table from earlier. She picked through to separate her gear from Jarrik's then removed the sheet to dress herself.

Minutes later she fastened her belt and jogged to find the cargo hold. The door slid automatically and her eyes immediately fixed on the large, plastoid chest towards the back. Viscera stepped over metal boxes and kneeled in front the chest, swiping the card and watching the lid click open. A collection of large Lignan crystals glittered within the container. Viscera scanned the contents carefully, decided this was what Tyraal wanted, then called to a droid in the room.

"Carry this and follow me," Viscera instructed and then stood to exit.

She returned to the center room to see Jarrik at the gear table. His lower half was dressed while the emerald skin of his naked chest and arms glowed under grated light. He turned to see Viscera press the button on the inner wall which operated the boarding ramp. Their eyes met for an instant until Viscera tore away.

"I am taking your hauling droid," she announced while finally pulling the lengthy mess of hair behind her head. Jarrik just looked and watched her walk off of his transport. Cool dawn air washed over her and the horizon brimmed with the promise of morning, in which time, Viscera would be long gone. She jogged toward her fighter, through the dimness of a barely risen sun, through the smuggler's camp with the droid rolling quickly behind her.

Luckily, her vehicle had not been stolen in the few hours she had been with Jarrik. Since she had not deployed the landing struts, the fighter lay flat on the ground with a trail dug into the dirt behind it. Viscera was beside it in the next minute and opened the small trunk compartment before waiting for the droid, which was not as mobile as she was. It rolled to her feet and she grunted while heaving the chest up to her shoulders. She dumped the plastoid container into the cargo space then slid the compartment closed. Once the chest was secure, Viscera opened the hatch to her fighter.

Jarrik jogged after her. "Hey!" he called out with his mask on and his voice-modulator in full effect.

"I'm leaving," Viscera announced while raising a leg onto the wing and stepping up.

"I'm going with you," the mercenary declared as he walked closer. "The Republic is still out there."

"I do not need your protection," she snapped reflexively, her scarce appreciation of his concern buried by disgust. Her dark hair fluttered as she stood on her fighter and looked down on Jarrik.

Viscera turned atop her craft, preparing to depart. Jarrik called after her, "At least tell me your name!"

"I don't have one." Viscera lowered into her fighter and the cockpit sealed around her soon after.

The craft powered up and Viscera saw Jarrik reclaim his droid before running back to his transport. Viscera looked upward and steered her fighter for the sky. She was perfectly vertical in a few seconds and was still dangerously close to the surface when she activated her primary booster. A shockwave tore over her compact ship and the atmosphere above streaked away. The blackness of space flooded her viewport and she witnessed what she had seen in her vision. Two cruisers surrounded by a field of explosions. One of them belonged to the Republic, stark white with reddish broadsides. The other belonged to her master, the _Iscillus_, aflame and even more damaged than before.

Viscera was stricken, both with worry and with a stray bolt as she neared the frantic battle. The droid fighters of the _Iscillus_ tangled with the clone forces in a storm of ships and laserlight. Debris drifted in between the cruisers and Viscera piloted around it, taking hits while on a speedy course for the hangar of her master's warship. Her fighter rocked when a wing was blasted and reduced to shreds of scrap. She lost control and spun into the hangar, her fighter sparking and scraping across the floor. It crashed into the far wall and Viscera jolted in her restraints, which she undid after a moment of recovery. Because of the damage to the craft, she had to push open the cockpit manually and climb out.

She straightened herself and flexed to shake off the crash landing while looking around the hangar. Self-piloting fighters launched at regular intervals and ACUs scurried about while fires blazed throughout the hangar. Beside the Hrasskis resource frigates was the Republic dropship that had attacked the smuggler's camp, which she recognized through the pluming smoke by the blood smeared on the hull. _The commandos came here after leaving the camp_. The thought made her stomach twist and she turned on her heels to leave the hangar. The halls were dark and dim like always and Viscera ran through them while grasping at the Force. She extended her senses, so she would find the commandos before they found her. She sensed the clone rifleman around the corner and used both hands to blast him with the Force.

The trooper was thrown hard into the wall and Viscera saw him collapse before the sniper of the squad came out of transparent camouflage. She ducked under a ray from the clone's longrifle then swung a high slash. The sniper's head jerked backward and the sniper rifle clattered to the floor. The commando reached for his side arm as the arcsaber sawed into his helmet. Viscera clenched her teeth and tossed his pistol away with the Force. The vibroblade buzzed and Viscera pushed harder until eventually the blade sawed through the soldier's head. Red mist and the stink of seared flesh spread throughout the hallway. Suddenly, a barrage of blaster fire streamed toward her and Viscera angled her sword in defense.

The rapid volley flooded her vision with harsh cyan flashes. Viscera took a step backward, nearly blinded in the dark. She heard footsteps charging toward her. The stock of a blaster rifle crashed into the side of her head and pain cracked through her skull. Viscera cried out and fell, her strength completely abandoning her. A click of the rifle was barely heard over the pulsing in her ears. Her eyes wandered the ceiling, aimless and out of focus. She strained to remain conscious and thought she heard two shrill whines.

* * *

A flurry of bolts streaked above her. They burst into sparks and caused the rifleman commando to reel backward, with glowing holes in his armor. Viscera struggled to sit up and felt a hand under her arm. She looked up through the dark smoke to a sinister mask peering down on her. Jarrik helped her up and then looked at the clone solider who recovered and resumed fire.

Viscera stumbled forward and raised her sword to protect both herself and her mysterious ally. Bolts exploded away from her weapon as she deflected the shots. Jarrik leaned from behind Viscera and fired back - several bursts from both pistols. The commando clutched the burning holes in his chest and Jarrik wrapped an arm around Viscera's waist so she wouldn't fall over.

Viscera hung in Jarrik's arm and glared at the trooper. Anger burned in her and the Force quaked, urgency strengthening her will. She wouldn't let this clone be the end of her. Her sword dropped and she pulled away from Jarrik to throw a wave of Force at the trooper. As the commando reeled into the far wall, she trudged forward and grabbed at his insides with her thriving powers. The soldier writhed as if he were possessed, organs shredding and blood spilling through his armor. Viscera's face rent with rage as she clawed at the air, miming the effect she desired from the Force.

Finally the trooper lay dead in a mess of crimson and Viscera felt Jarrik grab her again. He held her firm enough so she wouldn't fall but loose enough so she could continue through the dim halls. The pair was silent while explosions and blasters sounded just outside the _Iscillus_. The ship rocked occasionally and Viscera stumbled, still off balance and half-dazed from the blow to her head. She limped and her thoughts were divided between Jarrik and her master. Why had Jarrik followed her? Would he be a problem to her master? Was her master still alive?

Viscera shook her head. She would be able to tell through the Force if Tyraal had died; at least, that is what she told herself while walking on powerless legs. The doors to the bridge slid open and flashing red light spilled forth. A dark figure stood atop the far platform with blinking emergency holograms filling the wall in front of him. Jarrik kept Viscera on her feet and they lugged along the catwalk as quickly as the injured Chiss woman could manage. Beyond Darth Tyraal and the erratic alarm displays, the Republic destroyer could be seen out of the large viewport, drifting slowly and blasting away at the _Iscillus_.

"Master!" she screamed over the sounds of war but Darth Tyraal didn't react.

"How nice of you to join me," the Sith Lord droned plainly.

"Master, the ship is under attack!"

The deep sleeves of his robe raised as Darth Tyraal slowly angled his hand toward the viewport, which flashed starkly from the Republic onslaught. His hand hovered and his ship shook with explosion after explosion. The Force shivered throughout the bridge as the burning _Iscillus _was showered with lasers.

"Master!" Viscera screamed hoarseness into her throat. Through watery eyes she saw the Republic warship hovering outside the viewport, relentlessly firing and deploying fighters. Viscera could feel the ship burning around her as her master idled in front of the window. Smoke threatened to choke her and the floor of the _Iscillus _trembled as if it were about to fall out of space to the planet below.

Tyraal's hand twitched.

Fiery whiteness flooded the bridge and a hellish shockwave caused the _Iscillus_ to quake violently. Jarrik and Viscera fell backward on the deck and a deafening blast rushed all around them. A hundred thousand lives ceased simultaneously. The Force wailed.

"Iscillus." Viscera heard the cool voice of her master beneath the storm of noise and strained to sit up on her hands. Gradually the white faded, her vision returned, and her mouth gaped at the sight she saw in front of her. The black of space, the planet below, the Republic ship, all of it had disappeared within a gulfing swell of fire and wreckage. Blinding red and orange burned in the large windows in front of Darth Tyraal. It looked like the _Iscillus_ had entered a star.

"Online." A robotic voice sounded above Viscera and Jarrik as they lay on the catwalk. Viscera looked at Jarrik to see that he was still looking at the viewport. When the blazing blanket of fire cleared, nothing remained of the Republic destroyer. In its place was a pulverized wake of gnarled metal and bodies, scattered and smoldering from the intensity of its cataclysmic destruction.

"Jump to the Tungra sector," Darth Tyraal spoke to his ship while lowering his hand gradually. Awe overflowed within Viscera and she looked back to make sure Jarrik was still beside her. He was, resting on his elbows and turning his masked face to Viscera, then to the viewport as the _Iscillus _sluggishly repositioned.

"Calculating…" the ship's artificial intelligence announced as the warship angled clear of both Ord Mantell and the Republic wreck. "Prepare for hyperspeed." The bridge rumbled for a few seconds and Viscera watched stars streak past the viewport until the jump, at which point she saw nothing at all.

Her vision returned in an instant but her other senses lagged, causing her to be numb and sluggish in the following moment. Once she was able, she moved cautiously to sit up. Her head throbbed and her limbs wobbled but she managed to stand just as Jarrik got to his feet as well. The displays stopped flashing and the alarms finally fell silent, allowing Viscera a moment to think. A completely different set of planets now showed outside of the viewport. Darth Tyraal stood motionless and stared out at the Tungra system while the ship droned dully.

"You have gathered a companion," the Sith Lord spoke with shadow raking throughout the bridge. The destruction of the Republic cruiser apparently had not fazed him in the slightest.

"Someone I met on Ord Mantell. I told him not to follow me." Viscera kept her voice steady and spoke an almost pleading tone.

"Do not resist your urges, apprentice." Darth Tyraal didn't react to the Mirialan like Viscera thought he would. "Indulge, and you will know power." He also seemed to know more than he was letting on.

"Yes, Master." She stood just inches away from Jarrik and tried not to fall over from the throbbing in her head.

"In fact, I have use for someone like him," Tyraal spoke then waited for the response. He must have sensed it.

"Sorry, 'my Lord', you aren't my employer." Jarrik shrugged and managed sarcasm through the filters of his mask.

"You will serve me, or I will be your end." The Lord looked to the side and his threat snaked in the dark.

"We'll see about that-" Jarrik began and a hand flew for his blaster. Viscera hurriedly grabbed his arm and positioned herself slightly in front of Jarrik.

"What would you have of us, Master?" she asked, overriding Jarrik's outburst and making sure her master would not have reason to act on his threat.

"Land on Sontor. Infiltrate Otair Hollow, where Saedan'iisa has sought guidance." The details of the location listed out on a console along the wall. It appeared to be a grand temple except for the fact it was upside down. "Capture her; bring her to me." Darth Tyraal gave his order and Viscera scanned the display to read the elevation data. The temple was underground.

"At once, Master," Viscera agreed readily. She waited and stood limply and her master was silent. After a long quietness she turned around and tugged on Jarrik who followed her down the catwalk and out of the bridge. The door slid closed behind them and Jarrik quickly looked to Viscera.

"What do you mean 'us'?" Jarrik's voice was made droid-like by his mask.

"My master wants you to go on a mission with me." Viscera parted from following the masked spacer and jogged over to the mangled remains of her fighter. Once she was close she found that the chest of crystals was gone, likely gathered by the droids who were now repairing her damaged craft. She looked around the hangar while walking over to Jarrik's vehicle and noticed that the three resource frigates were gone also.

"Last night was great, but I do business alone." The Mirialan activated the ramp to his ship as Viscera approached.

"So do I, usually; but if I hadn't said what I did, you would now be a smoldering corpse." The Sith apprentice was still heavy on her legs from her wounds and tiredness.

"Cover for someone else, sweetie." Jarrik stopped and glanced at the Chiss woman while the ramp to his _Mauve-4_ touched the hangar floor. "I'll take my chances."

Afterward Jarrik turned and stepped onto his transport, followed by Viscera who held onto the railing while boarding. She felt shaken by the injuries she had collected recently and was grateful for the softness of the lighting throughout the interior.

"Do you have bacta?" Viscera's breath was labored and her vision still blurred somewhat.

"Medkits are in that closet." The modulation faded mid-sentence as Jarrik removed his mask, then gestured to the tall cabinet beside the ramp which closed with a hiss. Viscera was near the closet already and only needed turn around to find the medical supplies. She picked up a medkit and opened it to find gel, wraps, various syringes and other things. While looking through the supplies, she felt a hand wrap around her side.

"Want me to treat you?" Jarrik asked, carroty hair complimenting his emerald skin. Viscera looked into his darkly yellow eyes but was torn from them by the dreadfully dashing scar that crawled down the side of his bold face. Her heart fluttered.

"No. I wish to be alone." Viscera put a hand on his chestplate and pushed him away. "Get us to Sontor," she demanded in a more pleasant tone than usual. Viscera walked to one of the rooms and could tell Jarrik was watching, until the door slid shut behind her. Soon after, she felt the _Mauve-4_ lift off and leave the _Iscillus._


	5. Saedan'iisa

The room was small, not even half of her chamber on the _Iscillus. _The cramped space seemed to creep inward on her while she let her hair down then stripped to her underclothing, taking a rest from her boots, gloves and armor. There was a small lamp on the corner of a table to which Viscera sat and tended her damaged body. Bluish skin glowed darkly in the minimal light while she took the bacta from her kit; the gel was cool in hands but warm and tingly on her wounds. She treated where she'd been shot first and then the bruising side of her head.

She breathed calmly now, for the first time in hours, and savored the moment of solitude. No master to kneel to, no enemies to slay, just peace for the next period of time. The belt holding her arcsaber lay on the table beside her and Viscera looked at it briefly before raising her hand and grasping it with the Force. The weapon shivered, then slid from its sheath under Viscera's command.

She desired power and freedom and she would gain those through the Force, however her core motivation was the lost memory she had glimpsed after the latest lecture from Darth Tyraal. Viscera stood and spun her weapon in the air in front of her, switching hands and making it twist and flip via honed will. She walked around the confined space and thought about the fragmented memory of the day of her purchase. Viscera commanded the Force and it returned her to the past.

The vision rushed her in a surge of fog, which cleared so the Sith apprentice could see her younger self. She was on a stage in a line of a dozen other girls. Trandoshan slavers were scattered around them, armed with longrifles and clawed swords. There was a scarce crowd of people around the elevation where she stood, who were either bidding against each other or just arguing, Viscera couldn't tell. Standing out starkly was a man she now knew very well: Darth Tyraal.

His clothing in this vision of the past was less flowing and more protective. A glint sparked away from the crowd, somewhere in the background. Was that the detail she felt wearing on her nerves, the small piece she was missing? Viscera sharpened her will and trained on that far gleam, away from the crowd, lost in the hazy distance. It gradually became clear, at first she couldn't tell but as she focused, she realized what it was.

Jarrik's mask. Silvery and sinister, it leered at her and covered the face of the mysterious spacer. Viscera's concentration vanished and her sword clattered on the floor. Her mouth hung and the vision shuddered before dispersing into the Force, leaving her with more questions than answers. Was that really Jarrik she saw in her past? If so, what was he doing there? Did he have something to do with her being a slave?

"You alright?" the Mirialan mercenary called from outside, alerted by the noise.

"I'm fine," she gasped in the most believable tone she could manage.

Her eyes were wide and her chest heaved from shock; so much for a relaxing moment to herself. Vicsera picked up her arcsaber and clenched her teeth. The vision caused her head to ache and she winced while sheathing her sword. _I will discover the truth of all this._ She turned from the table and climbed onto the hard bed. Her thoughts wandered for a while as she drifted to sleep. Darth Tyraal died in her dreams over and over. Impaled, eviscerated, decapitated. Strangled, bludgeoned, spaced. Choked, crushed, and burned through the Force. This went on for hours as Viscera slept on the stiff bed and the transport traveled toward Sontor.

A rake of soft light spread into the room and a masked Jarrik stood nearly silhouetted in the doorway. Viscera's eyes peeled open and she squinted at the light while being scanned by Jarrik. He whistled.

"Y'know, our babies would be very colorful."

"I will slice you in half." Viscera sat up and flung her hand to the table where her sword rested.

"Not if you don't get dressed." Jarrik watched the arcsaber fly into Viscera's waiting grasp. "We just landed." He quickly ducked out of the doorway after seeing the apprentice preparing to throw the weapon.

Viscera lowered her sword and stood from the bed, before walking over to sheathe it on the table. Her wounds had vanished during her sleep thanks to the medkit treatment. She dressed with purpose, clicked her belt into place, and pulled her hair back. She stepped out of the room with an air of readiness and saw Jarrik waiting on her with arms crossed and his head tilted.

"Ready?" Viscera pulled on her gloves, walking slowly and scanning her rival.

"You said you didn't have a name." Jarrik hadn't forgotten what she said on Ord Mantell.

Vicera looked away from him. "I don't."

"Your master called you 'Viscera'." The bounty hunter rested hands on his pistols and pressed the point.

"And your men called you 'Jarrik'." Viscera countered with her own observation and her voice hinted with knowing.

"Ya, that's what I go by," Jarrik conceded, but only just. Viscera glared at the diamonds of his mask.

"Call me 'Viscera' if you must," she said, annoyed.

"What, you don't like your name?" A blend of teasing and concern came from the mercenary as he activated the ramp.

"How close are we to Otair Hollow?" Viscera changed the subject.

"It's over there." Jarrik stepped down the ramp and pointed into the grassy distance at a circular, city-sized depression. "Who are we looking for again?"

"Saedan'iisa." The Sith apprentice exited the _Mauve-4 _and walked onto the lush surface of Sontor, reciting the information her master had given. "She is here seeking guidance."

"Saedan'iisa. That's a Twi'lek name…" The Mirialan's voice trailed as he thought aloud and walked to the large, sunken area. "…and 'seeking guidance'; could that mean she is a monk?"

"Or a priest. Whatever she is, she will soon be delivered to my master."

"Wait." Jarrik ducked into the tall vegetation and pointed at a vehicle convoy resting near the recessed 'ceiling' of the temple. "What is the Republic doing at a place like this?"

"Awaiting their bloody deaths." She was reaching for her arcsaber when Jarrik's hand closed around her wrist. Viscera cut a glare at him.

"We can get past them." The diamond eyes of Jarrik's mask stared at Viscera and she looked from them to the Republic ships and back again.

Her killing desire fought briefly with her reason before she let her sword go and followed after Jarrik, who ran for the sunken roof of the underground temple. They were hidden slightly by the bushy greenery and violet sky as they raced for the subterraneous sanctuary. Luckily they were not spotted by the clones before reaching the lip of the sunken arena. Viscera ducked into the nearest stairway and Jarrik followed as she descended lower, away from the surface and into Otair Hollow, the hidden temple.

The lower caverns were tight and the sunlight was shut out on the surface above. Viscera stepped over scabby vines and fungi while traversing the underground halls which where warm and earthy. Moisture began to gather on her skin as she and Jarrik turned through the maze-like tunnels of rock and dirt. There were crude paintings along the wall, vague shapes which were stained on the stones with dark reddish oil. With every level they descended, the Force beaconed brighter, calling to Viscera and giving her a sense of direction, despite hardly being able to see in the winding labyrinth of ragged rock and cave foliage.

Jarrik followed Viscera until she slowed upon reaching a circular room from which yellow light flooded outward. The Sith apprentice walked into the room to see a gathering of people around a glittering crystal shrine. Three Pau'an's stood around the shrine, tall and thin beings with grey wrinkled skin and dressed in flowing regality. A Twi'lek female and a Zabrak male both sat crossed legged facing the Pau'ans with their backs to Viscera and Jarrik. They both wore woodsy brown robes and spoke lowly to themselves; the Force surrounded them.

"Saedan'iisa," Viscera spoke, breaking their trances and announcing her presence. The Twi'lek looked back at hearing her name, saw Viscera and Jarrik, then stood to face them, followed by the Zabrak apprentice

"Who are you?" Saeda's reddish skin glowed in the light and her hand reached for the lightsaber at her waist. Her tan and brown robes were more elaborate than the younger male's beside her; her lightsaber screeched out a violet blade while her apprentice activated a green lightsaber.

"You can have the padawan." Viscera spoke to Jarrik and they both drew their weapons.

Jarrik fired and Viscera clicked the trigger on her sword then dashed forward to clash with the Twi'lek Jedi master. She screamed at the woman she was to capture and struck violently, silvery metal and purple energy cutting at each other again and again. The Pau'ans did nothing, they idled behind the shrine and watched, utterly neutral to the fighting that exploded in their underground temple. Jarrik was floored by a Force push from the padawan before he gunned down the jedi-in-training.

Saeda slashed and her lekku flailed behind her head as her lightsaber cut Viscera from collarbone to shoulder. In the same second, Viscera's arcsaber sawed through the Jedi master's off hand. Blood sprayed and the severed limb flopped on the stony floor, followed by Saeda who seized from the arcsaber's electricity and fell to her knees. Viscera flipped the blade in her hand then pulled back for another slash until a blaster bolt struck from the side. The Jedi fell limp from the stun shot and Viscera turned to look at Jarrik who was holstering his blasters casually.

"He did say 'capture' right?" Jarrik managed a playful tone beneath the filtering of his voice while bending to pick up the padawan's lightsaber.

Viscera gave him a look which he deflected with his etched diamond eyes. The bounty hunter walked over to the unconscious Twi'lek Jedi and pulled out medical wrap to bandage the stump of her arm so she wouldn't bleed out. He also picked up the master's lightsaber while Viscera picked up the stunned Twi'lek and carried her in both arms, out of the ceremony room and back into the dark, cavernous hallways. She and Jarrik passed the same stones as before and stepped over thorny plants that wound up and down the tunnel floor.

The stunned Jedi hung in Viscera's arms, her head-tails dangling as she was carried. Jarrik led on the way out and crouched upon seeing the light of the surface. He peeked out to make sure they had a clear run to the ship then nodded to Viscera. They exited the underground temple and ran from the sunken area, Republic ships still waiting on the other side of the circle.

Viscera thought she heard a voice over the noise of their footfalls but ignored it and hastened her sprint for the _Mauve-4_. Shots rang out and Jarrik spun to return fire, still heading for his ship between shots. Viscera couldn't fight with a body in her arms, so she continued toward the transport and pressed the ramp deployment button.

Once the ramp touched down she ducked and carried Saedan'iisa before placing her on the floor. Her tanned robes crumpled on the deck around her and she held a pained yet peaceful look on her face. Her lekku curled behind her head and reddish-pink skin glowed bright even in the _Mauve-4_'s dim light. Viscera spit on the Jedi.

A minute later Jarrik ran onto the ship followed by a spray of blasterfire which exploded in a frenzy of sparks. He slammed on the button for the ramp to rise then ran to the controls. The ship whirred and a cloud of dirt spread from under it while it rose from ground, spun to face the way it came, and tilted upward for the sky. The ramp had barely closed when the _Mauve-4 _finished positioning and Jarrik activated the primary thrusters.

A burst of fiery energy fired away from the back of ship in a glowing ring and acceleration threw Viscera backward. She was pressed into the wall while the ship climbed into the air and away from the surface. The sky shone around the transport before clearing away to be replaced by empty space. In the distance the _Iscillus _waited for their return, drifting in the blackness with a renewed gleam. Viscera caught sight of it and ducked beside Jarrik to see out of the viewport.

Repairs had been made to her master's ship; it looked better than she ever remembered. The skeletal and damaged look was replaced by completeness and polish along with several new structures that hadn't been there before. Viscera pondered on what they could be and quickly settled on a best guess as the _Mauve-4 _pulled into the hangar and landed gently. Viscera turned and picked up the stunned Twi'lek who began to stir while being carried. Jarrik lowered the ramp then followed Viscera out of the ship and into the hangar. Viscera's fighter was in the final stage of repair; nearly good as new from the wreck it had been when she left for Sontor.

She continued with the Jedi in her arms, away from the hangar and through the hallway where the commandos had been. They had been cleaned up as well, and the ship seemed a little bit brighter, more alive. That may have been her master finally fixing the ship, her heightened awareness through the Force, or a combination of those. The doors to the bridge slid open and Viscera walked along the catwalk before placing the captured Jedi at the foot of the platform. Afterward she kneeled to the back of her master while Jarrik waited by the door.

"You have done well, Viscera." Tyraal's words were complimentary but his voice was monotone. "Through you I am closer than ever to my objective."

"I am yours, Master."

"Leave me," Darth Tyraal commanded. "Master Niisa has something I want."

He did not divulge any further details and Viscera didn't dare to ask, despite the curiosity that rose inside her. She stood and looked at the stunned Jedi, Saedan'iisa, who lay on the metal floor. Viscera turned around and wondered what business the Jedi and her master had on her way out. Jarrik followed her off of the bridge and through the halls that led to her room. They entered and Jarrik took the liberty of sitting down in the swivel chair, kicking his feet up on the table while Viscera removed her arcsaber sheath and set it down.

"So you just hang out on this dark ship all day?" Jarrik reached hands behind his head. Viscera looked at him and responded by pulling his mask off. She placed it on the table then grabbed Jarrik by the shoulders and pulled him onto her bed.

"I train and do my master's work." She crawled over him and whispered, "Outside of that, I grow lonely."

Viscera lowered to kiss Jarrik, who smirked and felt along her thighs. He touched her and she trembled then spread her legs around his waist, their silhouettes pressing in the dark. His warmth melted her anger, her frustration. Her sapphire hands traced his jade cheek and jaw, his beautifully grievous scar glaring in the shadows.

Viscera gasped deeply and she smelled the flora of Sontor lingering on his armor, tasted salty sweat on his skin. In this moment, she surrendered to the feelings washing over her, knowing she would fight later with the idea of loving him. Jarrik grabbed Viscera's waist and she cried as they tumbled in the bed with Jarrik ending up on top. She lay under her rival and looked up at him, searching his face while lying on her back.

"Viscera," he called to her huskily.

"Jarrik?" she breathed, her heart fluttering and her arms lying around her head on rustled sheets.

"I have work to do," Jarrik spoke while pulling away from her.

"No one asked you to stay," she snarled defensively. The pleasure of being caressed quickly bled into the floor.

"Did I ever tell you how charming you are?" The mercenary teased while standing from the bed.

"You fool. I will-" Viscera's anger did not take long to resurge.

"Sever my limbs, I heard you the first time." The bounty hunter picked his mask from the table. "Catch ya later, sweetie."

Jarrik waved quickly then slid his mask on as he turned to leave. The door slid behind him and Viscera was alone again in her chamber. Dim light cast soft shadows around Viscera as she lay down on her bed, Jarrik's warmth lingering faintly. Her breathing calmed and her eyes searched the ceiling as the excitement faded away from her. His wetness dripped from her parted lips and Viscera's jaw tensed. There was a dull feeling that throbbed inside her and left her feeling alone, cold.

Viscera tried to ignore the emotional ache, but couldn't. Instead, it followed her into the night, nagging her, robbing her of sleep until she sat up out of bed, unsatisfied. She called the arcsaber from the desk to her hand, took the weapon in both palms, and dove into the Force, needing something else to focus on. She entered the past once more and skipped the parts she knew already. The stage, girls, slavers, and crowd; she passed those and focused on the shape in the distance. It was Jarrik and that was his ship behind him, the _Mauve-4._ Viscera was certain. From there, she demanded more information from the Force and it bent to her will.

Vague images spilled forth out of the ether and into her mind. An elderly Chiss man, a Hutt kingpin, an enormous space station. They flooded to her in a foggy blur with little context. Explosions, a bluish ice planet, a glittering pearl city. The scene played in her mind's eyes for a few seconds before melding with the next vision. She saw the Hutt once more, a white desert planet, Jarrik shaking hands with someone, the ice planet, Jarrik carrying a younger version of herself. A flash of white. As jumbled as the vision was, there was no pain in her head this time, only new questions. Viscera breathed in slowly, held, and then exhaled slower, blinking back to her present time and surroundings.

The arcsaber floated in front of her in pieces; Viscera had perfectly disassembled it through the Force as an exercise during the vision. There was no denying it now: Jarrik had something to do with her being a slave. Viscera began putting her weapon back together. Through the Force she manipulated individual parts, reassembling the hilt first while pondering over the vision. She had seen her much younger self on a ship being carried by Jarrik. How much older was he? What ship was that? Why was she blindfolded and completely covered all over in dark clothing?

Viscera shook her head and went back to her sword. The energy cell and vibration core where placed inside the hilt and the handguard fit over those pieces firmly. The locations she saw were completely foreign to her; she had no idea where those planets were, but she knew who did. Viscera brought her hands together and the hilt of her arcsaber clicked together with the blade. The weapon buzzed with life and crackled with electricity before Viscera shut off the extra effects and moved it to the table through the Force. Afterward she lay back down, pondered her visions, and tried to sleep.


	6. I Will Return

Viscera rested on her bed in the cramped dark of her chamber. She was awake but she did not stir much, bleary eyes staring absently and storming thoughts trying to sort themselves within her mind. She squirmed from the cold she felt and reflected on the images she saw before going to bed. She would unravel the mystery of her past; it was only a matter of time.

"Join me on the bridge."

The Force rippled as Darth Tyraal whispered to her. At her master's request, Viscera quickly got up and readied herself. She put her belt on after pulling her hair back and getting dressed with purpose. With her weapon and light armor on she paused. She sensed something different, and spread her perception to investigate. The _Iscillus _had made a hyperdrive jump; although she couldn't tell to where. Viscera left that notion; she would find out soon enough upon reaching the bridge. She walked through dim halls and sliding doors until walking onto the catwalk. She smelled burned flesh and looked down to see Saedan'iisa curled on the floor, her robes blackened and her skin scorched. The Twi'lek Jedi was wounded greatly, but she was alive and Viscera's eyes lingered on her.

"She is no more use to me." Viscera winced at Tyraal's voice and looked from the Jedi to her master. She could feel what he was going to say next. "Kill her."

Viscera looked back to the defeated Jedi and saw pained wells of despair in her eyes. The Jedi had no fight left, abandoned by her Order and consumed by sorrow. Viscera had to ignore the weeping of the Force while she walked over to pick up the Twi'lek by the shoulders. Viscera hauled back and struck the woman with her fist. A sputter of blood misted in the scarce light while she grabbed the back of Saeda's head. Viscera pulled the Jedi's head downward and drove her knee into the Jedi's face. Breaking of bones cracked the silence and Saeda's head jerked violently, red splattering from the mangled hole where her nose once was. Viscera stepped backward and the Jedi fell, dead.

"Stand beside me," Tyraal spoke after sensing the Jedi's death. His voice was lifeless.

Viscera readily followed his instruction, stepping through the shadowy bridge and climbing the few stairs to his platform. Out of the viewport she saw a space station drifting across the darkness. It was a colony by the shape of it and it was massive, taking up nearly the entire transparasteel window. There were five major sections, city-size structures that came together to form an enormous metropolis among on the stars.

"This is. Kyatu Station. A place from my past," Darth Tyraal informed. Viscera risked a glance at her master. "I was deceived here. I found darkness here."

She had never heard of any of that from her master before now. His vagueness made her curious as she looked out of the window with him. Viscera stood beside her master and watched the megacity drift in silence, fearing what her master had planned.

"Iscillus." Darth Tyraal folded his arms. "Lignan Beam to full power." _Lignan Beam?_ Is that what the materials she gathered had been used for? A weapon? Viscera chided herself. _Why am I surprised?_

"Lignan Beam charged and primed to fire," the _Iscillus's _A.I. announced. "Awaiting target designation..." Viscera's eyes widened and a shiver crawled up her back. Again, she could sense Tyraal's next words.

"Kyatu Station."

Viscera stared at the viewport and watched red target reticules appear on the window which lined up with the major sections of the space colony, completely alone and unable to defend itself or its millions of inhabitants. She looked out and heard a whirring buildup of energy. Then the bridge shook and a blinding stream of light struck through space, from the _Iscillus_ and toward the space station, beaming through one of the towers and throwing a hellish shockwave from the point of impact. The resulting explosion tore through the floating megacity and reduced a major section of it to a storm of fire and wreckage.

Viscera felt something wash over her, a feeling she couldn't place, while another crystal laser cut through the colony. Another intense blast shredded a whole block of the station and sent debris scattering into space. What was that feeling? Viscera could see red alarms blinking throughout the massive installation. The people who lived on Kyatu were panicked, Viscera could feel it. Another powerful beam decimated the colony and another, explosions flashing against blackness, metallic ruins drifting in a wake of destruction, lives being silenced by the thousands. Her master was expressionless while the last of Kyatu Station was obliterated in a burst of energy.

The Force wept, its tremor of sorrow causing her to shudder. Viscera winced at what she saw and swallowed hard, the remains of several cities and millions of people burning, drifting in empty space. The bridge was silent and Viscera thought to herself. She thought of the colony that had been annihilated before her. Why did that bother her so much? Viscera clenched her fists. _Those people don't matter to me._ That may have been true if she hadn't seen that same colony in her visions last night.

"You are troubled." Darth Tyraal stared at the ruin he had caused. "The Force storms within you."

"Yes, Master. I have had visions of-"

"What you gather through the Force is yours alone."

"I need direction, master." Viscera pled to Tyraal and her vengeance squirmed, disgusted.

"The Force has met your demands." The Sith Lord shook his head. "Follow what you have seen."

"At once, Master." Viscera stood. "I _will_ return." Her statement was a dagger in the shadow, a blurring between promise and threat. Viscera could sense a different air around her master. _He can tell how powerful I have become. He has grown wary. _Whatever it was, she had not forgotten; she would never forget her ultimate goal. Viscera continued on her way along the catwalk and through the automatic door.

Purpose sped her pace and she traveled the hallway to the lift then took the lift to the hangar. She ran through the hangar to her ship which had been repaired and polished since she had seen it last. Upon reaching her compact fighter and opening the hatch, it occurred to her she had no destination in mind. She climbed into the fighter but did not touch the controls. Instead, she commanded the Force to guide her. The Force bent to her easily now, there was no resistance, no hesitation, only the foggy images she had seen before.

She saw Jarrik again, the white desert planet, the Hutt. With these in the back of her mind, Viscera closed the cockpit and activated her ship. It rose from the hangar floor and spun to face the exit. She clicked on the controls and the fighter flew from the _Iscillus_ and into space. Viscera steered surely, guided by the Force toward the answers to her past.

Viscera came to a realization after a long period of travelling and solitude. She was growing in power, and through power she would gain victory. A planet of sandy white loomed in the black distance and the console brightened with details. Viscera looked down to see what the readout was telling her.

[Unknown Regions/Chiss Ascendancy/Planet Csaul]

This was the destination she had found through the Force. She directed her fighter toward Csaul and soon she was in the atmosphere. Viscera piloted downward to the surface and saw a collection of landing pads where ships of various sizes rested. She saw the _Mauve-4 _among them as she landed then powered down her craft and jumped out. Mountains towered around Oular Dus, the bustling spaceport and Viscera had to ignore the clatter of shops and restaurants around her. She looked at the _Mauve-4_ for a prolonged moment. Jarrik was here and from a distance she sensed his ship was cold so he had been here for some time. Viscera's brow tightened and she spun to head into the town. Once she found Jarrik, she would have the truth.

Viscera waded through a crowd of diverse people, various appendages and skin colors passing on either side of her. Bronzy, dome-like buildings stood along a wide, winding pathway where shuttles and carriers floated through the bustling port city. A refueling station passed on her left while she followed the Force to a gaming corner. People were playing pazaak and placing bets at a counter while speeders screeched behind her. She looked back to see swoop bikes lining up for a race then turned back to the counter where Jarrik was, tossing a handful of credits and chatting with the Rattaki attendant. Viscera walked toward him and Jarrik turned to see her.

"Hey, sweetheart." The statement rose into a question; not even his mask could hide the curiosity of seeing her again. Viscera did not return a greeting; instead, she threw out her hand. The Force rushed forward and flung Jarrik into the wall. Patrons to the game corner turned to look and the chatter hushed around Viscera as she held her fist up and kept her rival lover pressed against the wall with the Force. She sauntered and Jarrik writhed as Viscera closed the distance between them.

"Lovely as ever," the bounty hunter growled under the pressure of the Force around his chest.

"We have met before," Viscera stated firmly.

"Ya, on Ord Mantell, you came out of the sky and-"

"Before that," she interrupted sharply before explaining in a low, threatening voice. "I have seen a vision of myself, covered all over in dark clothing, being carried by you."

"What are you talking about, Viscera?" Jarrik spoke slowly; a twinge of confusion accompanied his droid-like voice.

"Around fifteen years ago," she continued, needing him to remember. A long moment passed and Jarrik tilted his head as if it would help his memories return.

"Was that you?" Jarrik's voice now hinted at realization. "That contract was a long time ago."

"Tell me everything!" Viscera stepped forward and closed the Force tighter around Jarrik.

"All I knew was to pick up a girl at Kyatu Station. I didn't get any details." The bounty hunter struggled to speak as the Force crushed him against the wall. Viscera's face blanked. _Kyatu Station is gone._

"Who gave you the contract?" she demanded once returning from her thoughts.

"Kingpin Dakku Gludvore. His den is under the cantina." Jarrik spoke and was released soon after, falling to the ground and clutching his chest. By the time he looked up, Viscera had turned around to head for the cantina. He called to her. "You're not going in there are you? He's dangerous!"

Viscera did not respond. She left Jarrik and quickly walked to the cantina across what was soon to become a makeshift race track. Once she crossed the sandy road, swoop bikes screeched behind her as she entered the bar. It was warmer inside than outside and nearly pitch dark save for faint glimmers of yellow-orange that outlined the myriad collection of unsavory patrons. Viscera smelled automixers and microphilters on her way past a dance floor and down a winding flight of stairs, a sweet tang inviting her for a drink. She ignored it, more concerned with the pair of Gammoreans standing at the den's entryway. They grunted and Viscera raised her hand; she had nothing to say to them, regardless of the language barrier.

She clawed the air in front of her, miming and making the Force churn. The simple, porcine beings became visibly confused. They snorted and exchanged looks. Viscera glared and a twist of her hand caused the confusion to become terror. The Gammoreans staggered away from her, one drawing into a fetal position and the other grabbing his head, utter horror flooding their minds. As the guards reeled, Viscera entered the den, just as dark and sleazy as the level above it. Musicians and dancers performed on a stage to her left while an immense, slug-like being lazed on a platform to her right, various servants and provisions within close reach of his stubby arms. Viscera continued until she stood directly in front of the Hutt and its platform.

"Kingpin Dakku Gludvore." She stared at its horrid face, its olive skin speckled with black spots and slimy eyes apparently looking at the wall instead of her. "Tell me about the contract you issued involving Jarrik and Kyatu Station." It may have responded, but all Viscera heard was sloshing and squelching from its dripping maw.

Viscera frowned. "What did he say?"

A protocol droid lit up and preformed its primary function. "Translation: Who are you to enter my den and why do you want that information?"

Viscera's gaze did not falter."You will answer me or you will suffer."

She watched the Hutt, watched him scan her, smirk sloppily, and reach for a button on the table beside him. The floor gave out and Viscera fell suddenly. Her stomach launched into her chest and her arms shot out instinctively. She scarcely caught the edge of what she now realized was a trap door, narrowly avoiding a terrible fall and whatever was waiting at the bottom. A second later the grated doors began to close and Viscera had to pull herself up to escape being crushed. Her arms buzzed with fatigue but that did not stop her from reaching with the Force to choke Dakku angrily. The Hutt kingpin gushed and gurgled and flailed its useless arms while Viscera held her fist up and walked up the stairs to Dakku's 'throne'.

"What is he saying?" she growled at the protocol droid.

"Answer: I cannot tell."

Viscera released her hold on the Hutt, the Force scattering away from Dakku while Viscera drew her sword and angled it at the slug's fatty neck. Dakku sputtered and his breath rasped wetly. This time the protocol droid acted without being asked.

"Translation: I sent Jarrik on a trafficking contract. The call came from Kyatu Station. The target was a Chiss girl to be taken from the station to Planet Csilla," the droid translated. "There, she would be delivered to a woman by the name of Kuidu'isula'damuri, on the outskirts of the capital city, Csaplar."

Viscera thoughts drifted while the Hutt slobbered and his droid translated, absorbing the information and trying to make sense of it. Finally, she came to a realization. _I am that girl. _She flipped her sword backwards then sheathed it while turning around.

"You may live." Viscera descended the stairs and walked out of the den.

The Gamorreans flinched when she passed and jazzy tones followed her back to the first floor and out of the cantina. She crossed the road to the gaming corner then continued to the landing pads. After some thinking, Viscera determined her next stop was the location that Dakku had given. She was certain the information she sought was there. _Why am I a slave?_ The question she asked herself often would be answered there, she could feel it. _Where is my family?_ This was another missing piece of her that she wondered about at night. She passed shops on her way to the landing area and saw Jarrik on one knee working on his ship. Viscera walked passed him and he looked up.

"Viscera!" Jarrik stood and jogged after her. "Where are you going now?"

"You failed didn't you?" Viscera came to a conclusion, finally able to put pieces of information together. "You failed to transport me to Csaplar."

"They wouldn't let me land. They must have found out-" Jarrik spoke on the past before being silenced by a glare from Viscera. She spun and stared into the mercenary's mask.

"You lost your nerve…" Her voice trailed as the words came to her from the Force. She spoke slowly, with growing understanding. "…and abandoned me to save yourself."

"Nothing personal, babe." While Viscera was absorbed by the insight of the Force, Jarrik only shrugged. The gesture caused her slight trance to be overtaken by her typical rage. She clenched her fists and turned around to head for her ship.

"You are lucky I have greater vengeance to enact, Jarrik."

Viscera ran and jumped onto a wing then climbed into her fighter. She saw the hate in her reflection after the cockpit closed and she activated the craft. It rose from the landing and tilted for the sky, consoles lighting up and weapons coming online. Viscera input the planet Csilla, the Chiss howeworld, into her navigation system as the surface of Csaul became gradually more distant. Viscera clicked on her console and the pale sky above rapidly became starry blackness.


	7. I Am That Girl

Within the same system as Csaul, Csilla hung coldly in the dark of space. Viscera's fighter raced for the ice planet as quickly as possible and all she could do was wait to arrive. She thought on the information she had gathered recently, turning it over and over in her mind. Somebody paid to have her taken from Kyatu Station and transported to Csilla, her homeworld. Jarrik picked her up but was unable to complete the job. He abandoned her somewhere, likely Csaul, to save himself. All that remained was to find out who called for her kidnapping and what went wrong with meeting the woman near Csaplar. Kingpin Dakku named her as Kuidu'isula'damuri. _What is her relationship to me?_ The rocking of her fighter brought her from her thoughts, burning orange clearing away after entering the atmosphere. A beep sounded inside her ship.

[Chiss Ascendancy Security: Provide landing codes.]

Viscera glared and her teeth clenched. The angular craft zipped toward Csilla's capital, a gleaming white city of towers built high into the side of a chilling mountain range. Outside of the city, Viscera saw nothing but ice and snow in every direction. She knew this was Csaplar, the Force told her. Her ship however, displayed another prompt which flashed on her console.

[Chiss Ascendancy Security: Provide landing codes or leave Ascendancy air-space.]

Pale blue painted everything in sight as she lowered on the landing area, ignoring the security alert. She opened the hatch and exited the fighter. Her ship hissed and Viscera glanced around the capital city to get her bearings. The buildings became taller and more slender the closer they came to the mountainside. Viscera's breath fogged in front of her and she began walking, going on feeling rather than any actual direction.

On the way in, she had seen that the city was very high off the ground, made more apparent by the thinness of the air which Viscera forced herself to power through. She headed for the tallest and most grand tower toward the center of the city, while snow fluttered in the sky and guards advanced on her. Viscera kept walking and noticed that everyone in the city was a Chiss, the civilians below and the soldiers at the checkpoints between towers, two of whom approached Viscera with rifles drawn on her.

"You are trespassing on Ascendancy territory." One of the white-uniformed Chiss clicked the slider on his weapon and stepped forward cautiously. The other soldier saw Viscera reach for her weapon and gripped his rifle tighter. "Return to your vehicle and leave immediately."

Her arcsaber flashed from her sheathe and stabbed into the closest guard. A shot struck past her, blood splattered and a scream split the air as she spun to cleave the head of the other soldier. The decapitated body crumpled beside Viscera as she stepped on the soaked chest of the first sentry.

"Where is your leader?" she demanded.

"House Palace, level eighty-one," the Ascendant rasped and pointed weakly to the most prominent pearly building closest to the icy mountain.

Viscera left the soldier to die and walked through the checkpoint, heading toward the tower that had been pointed out to her. Another pair of Ascendants stood on either side of the doorway to the central building. They fired on Viscera and she blocked bolts, deflecting them into the floor before cutting down the next soldiers. Her sword dripped with red and Viscera killed another Ascendant after entering the House Palace.

With a glance at the marble wall, she found that she was currently on level forty-seven and quickly made for the lift to get to the higher levels. A ripple in the Force activated the door and once inside, Viscera was alone with her thoughts. The polished door reflected her scowl back at her, a mirror of her own frustration. _I have to know what happened to me. _Nothing would stop her. Kyatu Station had taught her remorse. However, none of this 'Ascendancy' would know it.

The lift stopped and opened on the eighty-first floor where Viscera immediately dashed forward, stabbed the Ascendant standing guard, and then threw his body into the executive room. Viscera walked in and the uniformed Chiss men all trained their weapons on her, all except their apparent leader. Another man with deep blue skin sat properly at the back of the circular room, his white uniform decorated extensively. Viscera walked directly toward him as if she didn't notice the soldiers aiming at her and the robed, staff-wielding guards on either side of the ranking official.

"Would you like to explain yourself, intruder?" He stood from his chair and drew his blaster pistol. "Or should I have you vaporized?"

Viscera threw out her off-hand and floored the admiral with the Force, causing the elite guards to rush forward. She waved her hand to close the exits with the Force and then spun to avoid being shot.

"Sound the alarm." Viscera hardly heard the commander's shouts over the blasterfire. "Kill her!"

Viscera stepped toward the nearest rifleman between ducking and deflecting before closing the distance and cutting him in half. She leaped with the Force and dealt with the other in a similar fashion, cutting the Ascendants to pieces before dueling with the pair of staff-wielding guards. They fared better against her but after beheading one and throwing her sword into the other, there was no one left alive besides her and the admiral. An alarm blared faintly outside as Viscera, bloodied and angry, strode toward the last remaining foe. He aimed to fire but his pistol was torn away by the Force. It smacked into Viscera's waiting hand before she tossed it on the floor.

"You will tell me everything, and then you will die." Viscera flung the Ascendancy leader backward with the Force while advancing on him, stopping once she was close enough to see the shiver of his eyes. She looked on the trembling man and clenched her fists. Her sword rested in an Ascendant's chest on the ground behind her, the Force burning in her hands in its place.

"Who is Kuidu'isula'damuri?" Viscera recited the name Dakku gave her.

"Isula was a member of my noble family." The admiral crawled backward, and glared up at his attacker who walked forward.

"Her sister, Kuidu'oura'raeda, disregarded the law and had two children by a commoner, for which she and her unlawful family were exiled to Kyatu Station. Isula enlisted a bounty hunter to kidnap her sister's illegitimate daughter." The Ascendant leader spewed information and trembled at the proximity of the intruder. "They had planned to have Oura's daughter married to a nobleman in an attempt to restore ranking status to her family. I found out, turned the bounty hunter away, and killed Isula for her insolence."

"I am that girl," Viscera declared after moment of silence, more to herself as opposed to the admiral. Was she satisfied with that answer? It made sense but she wasn't sure exactly. Would she ever be? She wondered about what her alleged family was like.

"Then you are Kuidu'alsci'raeda and you are a low-bred wretch." The admiral dared to speak while on his back, Viscera standing over him with fury twisting her face. Her lips curled inward in anger, her fingers spread, and she screamed vengeance. Viscera aimed both hands at the admiral and directed her hatred at him. Her pulsing wrath rushed forward, through her arms and from her fingertips, taking the form of brilliant lightning. A crackling torrent streamed into the admiral and he screamed agony. He writhed and his body tore with ghastly burns. Blue flashed darkly around the both of them and Viscera pressed her electric barrage until she could hardly see for the smoke, sparks, and light.

The last arcs zapped into the skeletal corpse and Viscera took a step back from the smoldering admiral and the surrounding area. A wide radius in front of her was scorched, bits of burning orange glowing within small craters and dark haze rising all around her. She sighed at both the sight and the expended effort, her arms tingling with an unfamiliar sensation. She would have smiled but she picked up her sword and turned for the lift instead; there was no time to celebrate.

Viscera boarded the lift and waited to reach the floor she came in on. She thought about herself, searched herself in the few minutes she had. She felt more at ease yet there was still more to be done. When the lift opened Viscera was greeted by Ascendants. She rushed forward and killed one after another while alarms blared throughout the city. She ran and returned to her wrath, slaying every soldier she came close to while the entire Ascendancy fired on her. Bolts rained toward her from above and below, from every direction and every tower.

Viscera killed and raced for her fighter, powering through the blaster wounds that gathered on her legs and arms. She ducked and fought her way to the center of the capital city. Csaplar rose into the snowy sky and its defenders surrounded her. Viscera killed and attacked and fought with the all the strength and power she had gathered during her journeys. It wasn't enough. They still came, an endless onslaught of soldiers. However, Viscera would not be defeated. _I will kill the entire city if I must. _As the incoming fire increased, Viscera became gradually more inclined to that option.

Could she even do that? Exhaustion crept inside her, the alarms screeched in her ears and blasterfire burned the air she couldn't breathe. If she didn't act, she would be overwhelmed. So she jumped. She brought her limbs to her chest, curling into a ball and summoning the Force to protect her. The air rippled as a ball of warped energy solidified around her. Inside, Viscera dove into the Force, deeper than she ever had. The world was gone and sheer will swelled within her, empowered her.

She drew on her hate of Darth Tyraal, her fury from her trials, her sorrow for Kyatu, and her love for Jarrik. They wound up inside her, churning and melding into raw rage. In the void of herself, it is all she felt. Viscera concentrated everything she had ever felt, returned to her surroundings, then released. An incredible cataclysm exploded around her, a massive Force rift laying waste to everything as it spread away from her. The ground shattered under her, shards of duracrete ripping up and being flung into the sky. The wave flew outward and tore the city to rubble. Gleaming white towers were utterly destroyed, buildings washing away like sand in the wind. Soldiers were ripped apart by the dozens and while apocalyptic ruin befell the city.

Viscera fell out of the Force's cradle, landing on one knee while the city crumbled, once beautiful towers broken and sliding down the icy mountain in a shower of wreckage. She stood slowly, her quick breaths fogging in the cold air as she started to walk for her ship. The alarms were replaced by the sound of metal groaning. The ground, the entire base of the city, lurched under her and Viscera stumbled forward before picking up her pace. A thunderous crash sounded behind her and Viscera looked back briefly to see thick metal supports give way. The ground dropped again, falling about a foot from beneath her feet and causing her to fall. _The city is falling apart. _Viscera hurriedly got to her feet as the city quaked and jolted and threatened to fall away from the mountainside.

She forced herself to run to her fighter more quickly than she ever ran, cold sapping her muscles and snow pelting her face. Csaplar broke from the mountains. Viscera leaped with the Force and reached for her ship desperately as the ground, the buildings, everything dropped away from her. She sailed through the pale blue sky toward her vehicle which tumbled down through the air, the vast expanse of a frigid planet resting in the distance. Her hand barely caught the wing and Viscera strained to pull herself onboard, reaching with her other hand to open the cockpit while she and her fighter plummeted through the air. Wind whipped around her and the ground drew gradually closer as the hatch opened and Viscera pulled herself into the seat.

She slammed on the controls and pulled her legs in so the cockpit could slide closed. The fighter continued to flip in free-fall while the jets sputtered to life. Viscera was up-side-down when thrust came, and she quickly inverted to avoid rocketing into the ground. She steered for the sky and immediately fired the primary boosters, while the capital city and all its inhabitants died on the mountainside. Csilla faded behind her and she flew into empty space. Her muscles ached and shivered, the cold of her homeworld lingering in her ship. She made a conscious effort to breathe steadily and winced at the blaster wounds on her body, her burns stinging with every movement.

She drifted in space, deciding on where to go. She couldn't return to the _Iscillus_ yet; she was in no shape to face her master. She also needed to refuel, as indicated by the display on her console. The closest planet was Csaul, the last planet she had visited so that is where she headed.

Short, bronzy buildings stood in a cluster of activity surrounded by a white sandy landscape. Viscera landed on Oular Dus once again and sighed at the controls of her ship. She sat on the landing pad and breathed, centering herself. She closed her eyes and tried to release the tired rage that stormed inside her. _Soon, I will be complete._ Viscera opened the cockpit and climbed out of her fighter then hailed the Rodian station attendant who jogged over and fixed a hose to the underside of the vehicle. She brushed long hair off of her shoulder and looked around at the distant scenery. There was no denying this was the other planet from her past; it matched her vision perfectly. _I was enslaved here._ The Rodian came from under her fighter and looked at her expectantly. Viscera didn't have any credits. She waved her hand.

"You have been paid," Viscera spoke after dominating the worker's mind. He said something then turned around to tend to her fighter, obviously convinced. Viscera left the landing area and walked down the line of shops and vendors. She came to a droid merchant and stopped to scan the wares. They were medical supplies, exactly what she was looking for despite her lack of credits. Viscera raised her fist and prepared to waste the droid with the Force.

"Viscera!" A familiar crackling voice called to her and she turned to see the mercenary who caused her heart to vie with itself.

"That is not my name," Viscera spoke while letting her hand fall by her side.

"Not this again," Jarrik spoke an audible eye-roll and walked over to Viscera. He held a young girl by the hand, concealed from head to toe in dark clothing. "What should I call you now?"

"Kuidu'alsci'raeda." The name the admiral had spoken. It felt foreign to say, but Viscera was convinced it belonged to her.

"A traditional Chiss name?" Jarrik stood in front of the droid vendor and its stand and Viscera could sense the thoughts spinning in Jarrik's head. "Does that mean-? "

"I confronted the admiral of the Ascendancy." Viscera glared at Jarrik's mask with distant ferocity. Her tone was one of knowing. "He told me everything."

"I was gonna shoot you, if that makes you feel better." The bounty hunter shrugged.

"It doesn't," Viscera uttered sharply before looking from the vendor to Jarrik. "Buy these supplies for me before I kill you, your friend, and this droid."

The mercenary chuckled and stepped forward to do as Kuidu'alsci'raeda requested. Jarrik produced a card to pay for the items on the counter and Alsci looked down at the girl who looked at the ground. She couldn't have been more than fifteen years old. When the transaction finished, Jarrik turned to Viscera and Viscera collected the supplies from the counter.

"You want her?" Jarrik asked while bending down to remove the girl's hood, revealing a feline face and long ears. "She's a Cathar."

Alsci looked into the eyes of the young, cat-like female. The plight of slavery was all too familiar to Viscera, it wasn't something she wanted for anyone else. Yet if she didn't take her, someone else would. She didn't know what caliber of master she would be, but by default it would be better than any of the grimy mongrels this girl would be sold to otherwise. "Sure," Alsci finally decided.

"So you went to Csaplar?" Jarrik asked while covering the young girl's face with the hood. "By yourself?"

"I destroyed the capital," Alsci announced while taking the hand of her new companion. "Csaplar is no more."

"What? Vis- I mean Alsci, the Ascendancy is going to kill you!" Jarrik sputtered.

"I do not fear them." Viscera started walking. "Goodbye, Jarrik."

"Where are you going now?" The bounty hunter followed the Sith.

"Soon, I will be free." No matter what happened next, she would be free.

"You're going for your master?" Jarrik quickly put the pieces together, realized what she meant, and offered to help. "Let me come with you, I can-"

"No." Viscera spun and the Cathar girl stumbled at the sudden motion. Alsci raised her hand to touch Jarrik's mask, tracing along the metal tenderly, as if were his face. She had seen his scar, she had seen the real him, who no one else would. She drew closer to him and whispered. "I will do it alone, or I will die."

"Damn, babe." The masked spacer reached for Viscera's waist. "You better not."

"Goodbye, Jarrik." Alsci pushed her rival away and headed for her ship. She opened the cockpit and helped the Cathar girl into the backseat before climbing in herself, closing the hatch, and lifting off. She tilted for the sky and flew upward until Csaul was a small dot of tan in the distance.


	8. Never Again

On the return trip to the _Iscillus_, the young Cathar didn't say a word and Viscera reflected truly for the first time in a long while. She thought about herself and what she had done, what she still planned to do. She had killed many people with her blade. Strength. She had claimed the Force and used it as a weapon, a shield, and a guide. Power. She had unknowingly helped kill her family, including her own mother. Sorrow. She had found both an ally and a lover. Companionship. She had destroyed a city. Vengeance.

Viscera had learned and grown, and discovered her true name; if she wasn't ready now, she would never be. Darth Tyraal's ship was straight ahead and after a rather long flight Alsci was finally able to dock and land. Once inside, she opened the cockpit and jumped out of her fighter, telling the young Cathar to stay inside the before walking through the hangar and into the halls.

The ship welcomed her return with a dull drone and the bridge called to her like a beacon, seeming to anticipate the confrontation. Alsci took the lift as she did countless times before, polished walls glowing in the dim light, isolation chilling the air she walked through. The doors slid and the catwalk led into the dark where Darth Tyraal lurked silently. Alsci walked forward onto the bridge, keeping her feelings in check until the right time.

"You have been to your homeworld," the Sith Lord sensed.

Alsci stood and glared at the back of her master, kneeling no longer. "Yes. There, I discovered my true identity."

"You have no identity," he droned. "You are a slave and nothing more."

"That is not true," Alsci hissed. "My birth name is Kuidu'alsci'raeda and my mother belonged to Chiss royalty."

She felt a faint pressure in her head. "Your mother is dead," Darth Tyraal scoffed, passively gazing at the galaxy. "What meaning does such a discovery hold?"

"It means there was a time when I didn't belong to you!" Viscera screamed at the motionless Sith Lord, her words echoing alongside the hum of the bridge. "It means I don't need you to be powerful."

"Before me you were a lost little girl," Darth Tyraal spoke in the gloom, "…destined to be a poor cantina dancer or a spacer's whore."

"Do you know why I bought you?" he asked with a tone of knowing. "You specifically, instead of any other girl?"

"No," Alsci breathed, barely audible over the distant drumming of the _Iscillus_.

"You had the greatest Force potential of all of them," the cloaked Sith Lord revealed. "My training is what gave you the strength to find the answers you sought to begin with."

"That doesn't matter!" Viscera shouted and the Force boiled around her. "My power is my own and you are all that separates me from freedom."

"Do not refuse the truth, Viscera," Darth Tyraal uttered. "I gave you every skill and ability you know, including the Force." He paused, vexingly calm and steady as he continued, "I can take everything away."

Viscera gritted her teeth. "Not if you are dead," she growled.

Her breath caught and her heart hammered in her chest. Darth Tyraal spun and his eyes widened. Alsci stepped forward and raised her arms. The space between them tore with the Force, rippling and warping fiercely as they clashed. Darth Tyraal glared at Alsci and the Force poured from his eyes, Alsci straining to keep the attack at bay with her own powers. She screamed from the effort and pushed with all her might.

A shockwave struck the entire bridge and flung the Sith away from each other. Alsci tumbled over on the catwalk and her master's back slammed against the viewport. Sparks fired from the consoles, cords ripped out of the ceiling, and cracks split along the windows, spawning the hiss of air escaping into space. Alsci picked herself up from the carnage and ran for the platform where Tyraal was still recovering. Alsci drew her arcsaber and was nearly within striking distance when the Sith Lord angled his hands and fired.

Lightning lit the bridge in fits of flashing blue and Alsci felt the horror of Tyraal's wrath. Agony spilled over her and she crumpled, struggling to fight the burning that ravaged her body and shattered her thoughts. Finally she could hold against the lightning no longer, overwhelmed by the electric blast and thrown backward onto the catwalk.

"You are mine." Darth Tyraal walked to the edge of his platform, looking down on the wounded slave. "Kneel to me."

Viscera felt her skin searing as she forced herself to stand, glaring up at the Sith Lord. "Never again."

Darth Tyraal smirked under his hood. "Congratulations, Viscera," he said while raising a hand toward her. "Your quest for dominance is at an end."

His hand snapped shut. The Force tightened viciously around Viscera's neck and violently pulled her upwards off the floor. She writhed in midair, gasping weakly and dropping her arcsaber to claw at her own neck. Through watery eyes Alsci saw the closed hand of her master, gripping so tightly on the Force that his knuckles were white. Tears spilled down Viscera's face as her chest heaved, convulsing in extreme effort and still failing to draw a breath. She felt a warm buzzing in the base of her head and consciousness began to slip away from her.

Darth Tyraal twisted his fist and swung downward, warping the Force and crushing Alsci into the metal floor. Viscera shrieked, breathless and disoriented as she was flattened mercilessly against hard durasteel. Pain flooded her, penetrating every bone in her body. She couldn't move and she couldn't think. All Alsci had capacity left to accomplish was breathing. She lay on her side and rasped, her airway now slick with blood. Viscera stared blankly at the dark walls of the bridge, hearing footsteps coming toward her.

Darth Tyraal descended the stairs. He stepped onto the catwalk where his slave was curled in agony and stretched out his hand. The Force pulsed, turning Viscera so she lay flat on her back and pressing down so she would stay there. She looked up at her master standing over her, his palm facing downward, his fingers spread apart. Alsci had no defense for whatever he was about to do to her.

His hand twitched and sent the Force pouring into Viscera's eyes. Images overwhelmed her: far-flung stars and planets she had never seen. Just as quickly, the Force scattered away from her garnet orbs, carrying her sense of sight as it left. Alsci's vision dissolved into blackness and no matter how wide she opened her eyes, she could no longer see anything.

"You were never meant to see, only to observe," Darth Tyraal stated.

Viscera could sense his fingers twitch before she felt the Force swell inside her head once more. Whispers intruded her thoughts as she stared blindly and tried to move, sit up, reach for her sword, anything! Alas, the Force held her fast to the cold slate floor and she had no choice but to endure a terrible chorus of painful wailing and screaming. When the Force left her this time it took her senses of hearing, smell, and taste, leaving her plain and deaf to the world. The dull hum of the _Iscillus_ was replaced by pure silence.

"You were never meant to learn, only to improve," Darth Tyraal explained, now speaking into her mind.

The Force was injected into her again, this time all over her body. The ethereal aura gave her the feeling of anxiety and horror. Viscera was conflicted in her own mind. After being stripped of her sight and hearing she was terrified, tortured before being cut off entirely. She couldn't imagine the haunting grief that Tyraal gave her for fear of what would happen next.

"You were never meant to surpass me, only to serve."

A horrible tearing feeling broke through her chest. Pain erupted from her core and set her nerves on fire. Tyraal's torment befell her and her only recourse was the darkness she couldn't see and her own screaming that she couldn't hear. Her muscles trembled, agony causing her body to spasm and then fall limp repeatedly. Viscera felt her back arching sharply, so sensory deprived she couldn't tell if she was being tortured with the Force or physically torn to pieces.

In the midst of Tyraal's hellish onslaught there was an odd pressure pulling away from her like her heart was being pulled out. Something severed inside her very being and suddenly Alsci felt nothing at all. She could not scream. She could not cry. There was nothing left but a black void and her thoughts. She didn't know where Tyraal was anymore. Viscera didn't even know where she was. _Have I died?_

Emptiness surrounded her blank conscious, spreading infinitely. Excruciating nothingness plagued her mind and Alsci truly did not understand. It didn't seem like she was dead even though that seemed to be Darth Tyraal's intention. Was this another test or training exercise? Viscera was done training under her master but regardless, what could she possibly learn in this state?

Alsci inhabited her own mind for an unknown amount of time. With no access to the outside world, there was no way to tell. Eventually Viscera became aware of her own heartbeat. Initially she thought nothing of it before she realized what that meant. _I can feel again. _The Chiss woman felt her eyes blinking and gradually her sight faded back to her as well. She returned to the bridge of the _Iscillus_, sensory information coming back slowly as she lay flay on the catwalk. She could hear the ship around her and she could see the back of her master as she carefully sat up, reacclimating herself to her own body.

Viscera stood up and looked at Darth Tyraal, who had returned to the viewport. The Sith Lord turned around, confusion on his face. A question formed on his lips but he remained silently, obviously not expecting Alsci to still be functional. She reached with the Force to retrieve her arcsaber from the floor. The weapon did not move. She tried again and the sword still did not stir.

Darth Tyraal scowled and fired another blast of lightning at Viscera. "Your defiance will be your death."

She quickly bent down to pick up her arcsaber with her hands and raised it to defend against the electrical attack. Fiery blue acrs burned around her as she pushed into the barrage, sparks exploding as the Force energy struck out. Alsci forced herself toward the Sith Lord, enduring the blazing heat and light that poured from his fingertips. Viscera held tight to the arcsaber, glowing brightly from the intense temperature of Tyraal's power and threatening to melt into useless slag.

"Through passion, I gain power," Alsci rasped, the skin of her hands scorched away by lightning.

She continued to her limits and beyond to face her master once and for all. Viscera did not fear death. She continued forward, closer to her demise but also close to freedom. Her melting arcsaber was all that kept her alive - burns on her arms and legs reaching the third degree but her face and torso mostly protected by her sword. The steely weapon began to liquefy under the barrage, electric rage bursting around her, obscuring her vision. Alsci took another step into the storm and grimaced at the heat of it, the violent manifest of Tyraal's authority. She cried out and advanced again. All she saw was energy. All she heard was the angry roar of lightning. All she felt was pain, surrounding her, penetrating her, destroying her. This is what had broken Viscera so many years ago. Alsci closed within a foot of Darth Tyraal, angled her sword and slashed at him blindly.

The storm ceased.

The Sith Lord stumbled backward, his left hand mangled by the molten arcsaber and his right stretched outward at Viscera. The Force tossed her backwards and sent tumbling down the stairs. She heard a clattering and struggled on her hands and knees to crawl back to the platform. There she saw Tyraal fall to his knees, his left hand covered with scorching slag. What remained of Viscera's weapon lay on the platform: a silvery hilt with only a couple inches of blade left. She crawled up the stairs on her hands and knees then reached for her sword, picking it up from a puddle of molten durasteel. With her weapon in hand she strained to stand, every inch of her burned and blackened and smoldering.

"Through power, I gain victory," she said while trudging toward Darth Tyraal on powerless legs.

She gripped her blade with a skeletal hand as she closed on him. The Sith Lord waved his hand weakly and sent Alsci crashing back to the floor. She threw the arcsaber as she fell, pain bursting within her injured body upon meeting the hard floor for a third time. The short blade cut a deep gash into his neck and Darth Tyraal reeled, inching away as hot metal burned his arm and blood gushed from his throat. Viscera could hear the Sith Lord fall as he struggled to breathe. She crawled to the body of her master, her charred flesh peeling on the metal floor. She looked into his blue-violet eyes, acrid smoke stinging her senses and sparks sizzling in the distance.

"Through victory, my chains are broken."

Alsci placed her hands on Darth Tyraal's bloody chest, feeling the warmth fade and the light dying in his eyes. This was the end for her master but before he was gone Alsci needed to get one thing from him. He had taken the Force from her, tore it out of her body ruthlessly. She wanted it back. The severance was supposed to kill her but it didn't, for reasons Viscera did not know.

She stared into Darth Tyraal and reached with her mind. She returned to the warmth that she once knew. She thought of the mystery that Darth Tyraal was and had always been to her. She reveled in the depravity that her former master had tortured her with. Viscera pulled the last spark of the Force from Tyraal's body and absorbed it into herself. The power he had stolen crashed back into her in a flash, overwhelming her mind all at once. The feeling of her previous uses of the Force returned, most notably the destruction of Csaplar. Powerful, wounded, and finally free, Alsci crawled to sit in front of the viewport and gaze the stars.

"Iscillus," she called to the ship.

"Online," it responded.

"Send medical droids to the bridge," Alsci ordered.

Alsci watched the galaxy passing by for a moment longer and then fainted.


End file.
